A Bluetooth Connection Revealed His Affair

Discovering my husband's affair was actually a small matter.

I was at a parking lot with my best friend, Rachel, checking out a high-end maternity care center, when I spotted his car.

I walked to the front desk:

Excuse me, could you check if my husband, Ryan Walker, has an appointment here today?

Soon, the receptionist looked up:

"I'm sorry, ma'am, we cannot disclose client appointment information."

My heart tightened.

Can't disclose?

That meant he really was here.

Rachel stared at the black Mercedes in confusion.

"Didn't Ryan say he was on a business trip? Why is his car here?"

Yes.

He left on a business trip last night, saying he'd be back by evening to celebrate my birthday.

I pulled up his number and called.

---Ring---Ring---Ring---

No answer.

I checked the time: 11:30.

"Forget it, let's just go up."

This maternity care center was located above the city's most expensive private women's hospital. It operated on a strict members-only appointment system, specializing in pre-pregnancy care, pregnancy support, and postpartum recovery.

I was three months pregnant. Rachel originally wanted to bring me here to check out the place for my birthday.

The elevator doors opened, and the receptionist greeted us with a practiced smile:

"Hello, ma'am. Do you have an appointment?"

"Yes, under Anna---"

"No."

I pulled my friend back behind me:

"It's under my husband's name, Ryan Walker."

The staff member paused, then looked down at her computer.

Then she looked up:

"I'm sorry, ma'am. Due to client privacy, I cannot confirm specific appointment details with you."

My heart tightened.

Can't disclose?

That meant he really was here.

Rachel looked at me with concern.

She understood immediately.

A man who claimed to be on a business trip out of town suddenly appearing at a high-end maternity care center.

He couldn't possibly be here for a business meeting.

I took a deep breath and looked at the young woman in front of me:

"Here's the situation. My husband mentioned he wanted to look into pregnancy packages for me and asked me to come today to register family information. I'm a bit tired now and would like to sit in the waiting room for a while."

The staff member maintained her smile:

"I'm sorry, ma'am. Without appointment confirmation, we cannot escort you into the client area at this time."

I nodded:

"I understand. Could you please call him to confirm? Just tell him a Ms. Nichols is here and ask if he can come out to meet me."

The staff member hesitated for two seconds:

"May I have your surname?"

"My surname is Nichols. My husband's name is Ryan Walker."

She entered the information into the system to search, then picked up the internal line.

My heart jumped to my throat.

"Hello, Mr. Walker. This is the front desk. A Ms. Nichols is here, saying she's come to register family information for the package you inquired about. Would you be available to come out to meet her?"

There was a long pause on the other end.

"What did you say?"

The staff member turned to me:

"Ma'am, may I have your full name?"

"Emma Nichols."

"Alright."

She spoke into the receiver again:

"A woman named Emma Nichols is at the front desk. Would you be available to come out?"

One second.

Two seconds.

Just when I thought he'd hung up, a response finally came from the other end:

"I'll be right there."

The call ended.

The staff member gave a professional smile:

"Ms. Nichols, you may wait in the lounge area."

I barely managed to stay standing by gripping Rachel's arm.

He really was... here.

But for now, I only knew he was at this maternity center.

I didn't know who he came with.

The staff wouldn't tell me.

That was private information.

Ironic, wasn't it?

The rules protected his privacy while he accompanied another woman to look at postpartum suites, but wouldn't give his own wife a heads-up.

My phone lit up.

It was a call from Ryan.

I watched his name flashing on the screen and pressed decline.

Soon, my phone vibrated again.

"Emma, the company suddenly arranged for me to discuss a collaboration here. You guys look around, I'll be right down."

"What did Ryan say?"

I turned my screen toward Rachel.

She glanced at it, and two words squeezed through her teeth:

"Bastard."

"How shameless can he be?"

She stared at me, her eyes redder than mine:

"But we still don't know who he came with."

I glanced at the warm yellow lighting in the center and the rows of pamphlets as polished as showroom displays, then took a deep breath:

"Who says I'm going to ask now?"

"Then what are you---"

"Wait for him to come."