I Left My Wedding Ring Outside His Office

It was the third month after Leo and I got our marriage license at City Hall.

He was working late more and more often. I didnt think much of it.

Until that day, when I decided to surprise him by bringing lunch to his office.

The receptionist smiled at me. Mr. Osman is in the conference room, Liz. You can wait here.

The conference room door was slightly ajar.

There was no meeting inside. Only Leo and a woman sitting opposite each other.

She was crying. The way he handed her a tissuegentle, slowwas exactly the way he used to comfort me.

I stood at the door, holding the Tupperware of lunch I had made him.

He looked up and saw me. Panic flashed in his eyes for a split second before he quickly stood up.

"Liz, shes a new hire. She's going through some family trouble"

I forced a smile and set the Tupperware on the table. "It's fine."

Then I looked at the girl and said softly, "You should use these tissues instead. The ones in his pocket are mint-scented. I put them there this morning. You might not like the smell."

With that, I turned around and walked away.

As the elevator doors closed, I heard him calling my name from down the hall.

I didnt look back.

I just reached down, slipped the ring off my left ring finger, and left it on the ledge of the fire hose cabinet next to the elevator buttons.

"Sir, could you pull over here, please?"

The Uber driver glanced at me in the rearview mirror but didnt ask any questions.

The car stopped. I pushed the door open, crouched by the roadside flowerbed, and dry-heaved.

Nothing came out. I hadn't eaten breakfast, and lunch was left on that conference room table.

My phone buzzed for the nineteenth time.

Leos name kept lighting up the screen like a broken bulb that wouldnt go out.

I declined the call, stood up, and told the driver to keep going.

When I got home and opened the door, the scent of the oxtail soup I had simmered last night hit me.

Inside the fridge, seven meal-prep containers were stacked neatly, labeled Monday through Sunday with the dish names and microwave times.

I took them out, one by one, popped the lids, and dumped them into the trash.

The soup splashed onto the back of my hand, burning hot. I didn't even wipe it off.

My phone rang again. A FaceTime call this time.

I turned it off.

On the entryway console table lay Leos spare key. I picked it up, clenching it in my fist until the cold metal dug painfully into my palm.

Then I sat on the couch, staring at the living room ceiling, from four in the afternoon until the sky turned pitch black.

The sound of the lock turning. Leo was home.

"Liz?" he called out as he kicked off his shoes at the entrance.

I didnt answer.

He walked into the living room, saw me sitting in the dark, and flipped the light switch.

"Why are you sitting in the dark? Is your phone dead? I called you over twenty times."

"Yeah."

He sat down across from me. He was still wearing his light blue dress shirt, the top button undone.

I smelled it. It wasn't mint.

It was jasmine. Faint, lingering on his right cuff. It must have rubbed off when that girl got too close to him.

"Liz, let me explain."

His tone was identical to the one he used in the conference room this afternoon. Even the pauses were the same.

"Her name is Sammy. She just graduated this year, and her family situation is a mess. Her parents are getting a divorce."

"She doesnt have any friends here. As her department head, I"

"When did you start caring so much about her?"

He paused.

"Since she started last month."

"Last month," I repeated. "And your overtime started getting worse last month, too."

"That was because of the end-of-quarter rush"

"Leo Osman."

When I used his full name, he shut his mouth.

"The way you hand over a tissue. You pinch the edge with your thumb and index finger, then gently slide it over."

"When you were pursuing me, the first time I cried in the movie theater, you did that exact same thing."

The calm expression on his face cracked.

"You told me that was a gesture reserved only for me."

He opened his mouth, but no words came out.

I stood up and placed his spare key on the coffee table.

"I locked the bedroom door. Youre sleeping in the guest room tonight."

"Liz"

"Goodnight."

I walked into the bedroom and locked the door behind me.

I slid down against the door, sitting on the cold floor.

It was quiet outside for a long time. Then his voice came through the door, muffled and heavy.

"You're overreacting."

I didnt reply.

He spoke again. "We are strictly colleagues. If you're going to make a scene out of nothing, we can't even talk."

I looked up at the ceiling.

Then I spoke, my voice barely a whisper.

"The way you handed her that tissue was exactly how you used to do it for me."

"Goodnight, Leo."

"Did you sleep at all last night? Your dark circles are terrible."

Harper pushed a cup of coffee toward me, staring at my face.

"I'm fine. Just some insomnia lately."

She didn't pry. Instead, she started complaining about how her husband stuffed too many clothes into the washing machine yesterday, causing the door to pop open and blast soapy water all over her face.

I listened and managed a small laugh.

My phone buzzed inside my bag. I didn't check it.

Harper stopped mid-sentence.

"Aren't you going to check that? What if it's Leo?"

"He's at work. He doesn't call at this hour."

"Oh," she said, continuing her story.

As I took a sip of my coffee, I glanced down at my screen.

It wasn't Leo.

It was a text from an unknown number:

Liz, I am so sorry about yesterday. I really don't want to come between you and Mr. Osman. Sammy

How did she get my number?

The question bounced around my head twice before the obvious answer hit me.

Either Leo gave it to her, or she took it from his phone.

Either way, it meant they were much closer than he was letting on.

I deleted the text.

After parting ways with Harper, I went back to my office.

At three in the afternoon, Leo sent a WhatsApp message: I'm coming home early tonight. I'll make dinner.

I replied with a simple, Okay.

When I got home, there were four dishes on the table and a bouquet of pink carnations sitting in a vase in the entryway.

Leo popped his head out of the kitchen, wearing an apron. "Try the grilled salmon. You said you wanted it last week."

I sat down and took a bite. It tasted good.

He watched me eat from across the table, his eyes filled with a cautious anxiety.

"Liz, about yesterday... I had a bad attitude. I shouldn't have said you were making a scene."

"Okay."

"In the future, if something's bothering you, just tell me. Don't turn off your phone. I worry when I can't reach you."

"Sure."

He let out a sigh of relief. It was a fleeting expression, but I caught it.

He wasn't relieved because he had made things right with me. He was relieved because he thought this chapter was closed.

After dinner, he went to do the dishes. I sat on the couch and picked up his car keys.

I didn't have a specific plan; it was just an instinctive reaction.

But then I remembered something.

Last weekend, he said he took the car to the car wash. When he came back, the passenger seat's position had changed.

Im 5'7". The seat was adjusted for someone around 5'3".

I hadn't thought much of it then. Now, I did.

I put the keys back.

Leo walked out of the kitchen, wiping his hands, and saw me spacing out.

"What are you thinking about?"

"When you got the car washed last week, did the detailers adjust the passenger seat?"

His hands paused mid-wipe.

"Probably. They have to clean the interior, so they move things around."

"Oh."

I nodded and dropped the subject.

He walked over, sat next to me, and put his arm around my shoulder.

I didn't pull away, but I didn't lean into him either.

His hand on my shoulder felt incredibly light.

In the past, when he held me, he would pull me tightly into his chest.

Now, this touch felt like he was merely trying to pacify a difficult client.

Later that night, he went to take a shower first. I picked up his phone from the couch. It wasn't locked.

He had never set a passcode on his phone, from the day we started dating until now.

I used to think it was a sign of trust. Now, I wasn't so sure.

The first pinned chat on his WhatsApp was me, the second was his mom, and the third was a work group.

I scrolled through his chats. There was no thread with Sammy.

He had deleted it.

The sound of the shower stopped. I put the phone back exactly where it was.

He stepped out, his hair still wet, and glanced at me. "Aren't you going to shower?"

"Going now."

I stood up. As I passed him, the scent of the sandalwood body wash I bought him washed over me.

Squeaky clean. No traces of anything else.

But I knew that deleted chats, just like washed-off jasmine perfume, didn't mean they never existed.

He just didn't want me to see them.

"Mrs. Osman, we haven't seen you in a while!"

The supermarket cashier greeted me warmly. She knew me because during our first month of marriage, I came here almost every day to buy groceries.

But then I stopped coming. Leo said he had too many business dinners and came home too late, so I shouldn't waste time cooking.

I smiled and pushed my cart forward.

My phone rang. It was Harper.

"Liz, is that colleague of your husband's named Sammy?"

My hand on the shopping cart froze.

"How do you know?"

"My husbands Instagram. He and Leo have a mutual friend."

"A photo was posted yesterday from some business gala. Leo was standing next to this young girl, and she was holding his suit jacket."

"The caption said: Mr. Osman is so thoughtful. Sammy caught a cold, so he lent her his jacket."

I stood in front of the frozen food aisle, the cold air blasting onto my face.

"Screenshot it and send it to me."

Three seconds later, the picture popped up.

In the photo, Leo was in his white dress shirt, sleeves rolled up to his forearms. The girl next to him was clutching his dark gray suit jacket.

Her head was tilted slightly, a shy smile on her face.

She was very young, with a round face and bangs. She looked barely twenty-two.

The way she held his jacket made it look like the most precious thing in the world.

Harper waited a few seconds. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"Liz, let me tell you, this whole thing"

"I know."

I hung up and saved the screenshot to my hidden album.

Then I sent Leo a text: It's getting cold tonight. Did you bring your jacket?

He replied instantly: Yeah, I have it. Bundle up yourself.

I didnt reply.

He said he had it, but his jacket was in someone else's hands.

He came home around nine-thirty, carrying a bakery box.

"I passed by that bakery you like. I remember you saying their cheesecake is great."

I opened the box and cut a slice for him.

"How was the business gala today?"

His fork paused halfway to his mouth.

"What gala?"

"Your colleague posted on Instagram."

Silence fell over the room.

He set his fork down and looked at me.

"Are you keeping tabs on me now?"

When he said that, his eyes turned cold.

It wasn't guilt. It was annoyance.

"I'm not. Harper saw it," I said, my voice incredibly flat.

"Did you lend your jacket out? You told me you had it with you when it got cold."

"It's just a jacket, Liz. She was sick. You don't need to go this far"

"Go this far to do what?"

He didn't answer.

I looked down and took a bite of the cheesecake. It was sweet, too sweet. It actually made me feel a bit sick.

"Leo, when did you start thinking that me asking a simple question is 'going too far'?"

He rubbed his temples.

"Liz, I don't want to fight."

"Neither do I." I put the cake down.

"So just answer me one questionthe day you got your car washed last week, who sat in the passenger seat?"

His face stiffened.

It was only for a second, then he recovered his composure.

"Nobody. I told you, the detailers"

"I adjusted my seat back to my height. Before I left the house today, I checked it again. It was lowered. You didn't get your car washed today."

The living room fell into a dead silence for five full seconds.

Leo stood up abruptly, tossing his fork onto the plate with a loud clatter.

"What are you trying to do, Liz? Watching every little detail like a hawk. Is this fun for you?"

"No, it's not."

I stood up too and closed the bakery box.

"It's not fun at all."

His lips trembled, but he said nothing. He turned and walked into the guest room, slamming the door.

The sound wasn't deafening, but it was clear.

I stood alone in the living room, looking down at the cake box.

Cheesecake.

The bakery I told him I liked had relocated two weeks ago.

This cake wasn't from there.

He had either forgotten, or he never bothered to care in the first place.

"Are you home? I came by to see you."

Eleanor, Leo's mom, stood at the door carrying a bag of fruit and some steaks.

I let her in and poured her a cup of tea.

She sat on the couch and looked around, her eyes lingering on the coat rack.

"Why are Leo's coats hanging outside the guest room? Are you two... having a fight?"

"No. He's been working a lot of overtime lately and didn't want to wake me up when he gets back late, so he's sleeping there."

She nodded, but her expression didn't soften completely.

"Liz, you two have been married for three months now. When are you going to start a family? You should have babies while you're still young."

My hand holding the teacup remained perfectly still.

"We're in no rush, Eleanor. We want to wait a bit."

"Wait for what? Leo is already thirty. His father always wanted to see a grandchild before he passed..."

Her voice was gentle but carried that nagging, persistent pressure.

I kept a polite smile on my face, like a mask.

As Eleanor was putting on her shoes at the door to leave, her gaze swept over the shoe rack.

She paused.

"Liz, are these white sneakers yours?"

I looked over. On the bottom shelf was a pair of small, white sneakers. Size 6.

I wear a size 8.

"No, they're not mine."

The moment the words left my mouth, I froze.

Eleanor gave an awkward laugh. "Oh, maybe a friend left them here."

"Maybe."

I saw her out, then crouched in front of the shoe rack.

The soles of the shoes were very clean, barely worn.

On the inner label, there was a small set of initials written in black Sharpie: S.O.

Sammy.

She had been in this house. While I was away.

I took a picture of the shoes and saved it. Then I put them back exactly where they were, not moving them even a millimeter.

That evening, Leo came home while I was cooking.

He changed his shoes and walked into the kitchen, standing behind me.

"My mom came by today?"

"Yeah. She brought some steaks."

"What did she say?"

"She asked when we're having kids."

He was quiet for a couple of seconds before sitting down at the dining table.

As I brought the food out, I casually remarked, "There's a pair of white sneakers on the bottom shelf of the shoe rack. Size 6. They aren't mine."

"Check if one of your female colleagues left them behind."

He was pouring water. His hand shook, spilling some onto the counter.

"Oh... we had a team dinner here last time. Someone probably forgot them."

"You had a team dinner at our place?"

"Just once. You were working late that night."

I didnt recall ever working so late that I didn't come home.

My job never required overtime, and Leo knew that.

But I didn't call him out.

I sat down and took a bite of my food, chewing slowly.

He sat opposite me, not touching his plate.

"Liz."

"Yeah?"

"Lately... have you been looking for reasons to find fault with me?"

I looked up at him.

"Im not looking for them, Leo. They are just showing up on their own."

His throat bobbed.

"Ill throw those shoes away tomorrow."

"No need," I said, looking back down at my food.

"Like I said, they aren't mine. They have nothing to do with me."

After dinner, he retreated to the guest room again.

I waited until the door closed, then opened my phone.

I opened my hidden folder: the photo from the conference room door, the passenger seat, the Instagram screenshot Harper sent me, the text message from Sammy, and the photo of the size 6 sneakers.

One by one, sorted by date, saved in an encrypted album.

Then, I dialed a number.

"Hello, is this Attorney Vance? Id like to schedule a consultation regarding filing for divorce."