Page 2 of Keeping Skylar
I take a moment to calm my breathing, wiping away all traces of my tears before pocketing my phone, and placing Kaden’s back in its hiding spot.
To think, just over two hours ago, I stumbled upon his hidden phone and uncovered the truth of his illicit affair, turning everything I once believed about my husband and our marriage upside down. Though the discovery was accidental, it’s one I’ll always be grateful for.
I had just finished watching my favourite TV series, when I noticed one of the legs on the coffee table had a slight wobble as I wiped a small wine spill from the surface.
Determined to fix the issue on my own, I’d headed to the garage to look for an Allen key. A few minutes into my search, a muffled vibrating sound coming from Kaden’s motorbike caught me off guard. Suspecting something might’ve been malfunctioning, I figured it would be wise to check out the noise.
Not a minute later, the vibrating sound buzzed once again. I followed the noise until it led me to the top box attached to the back of his Kawasaki Ninja. Lifting the lid, I found a helmet, a few takeout receipts, a pen, and a black beanie with Kaden’s company logo stitched on the front, all tucked beneath the helmet. As I picked up the beanie, a heavy, solid object slipped out and dropped with a thud on the bottom of the compartment.
As I picked up the fallen object, inspecting it for damage, what I found instead struck me to my core. It was an iPhone, a slightly older model, its locked screen flashing with missed calls and messages. My stomach lurched, an unsettling sense of dread creeping in. Nothing good ever comes from finding a hidden phone.
I hesitated, hoping it would be the same four-digit pin as Kaden’s other phone. With a shaky hand, I tapped in the code, and the screen unlocked instantly. In that moment, I knew, that everything in my life would never be the same again.
So, here I am, sitting in my car, parked inside the garage at nearly 3 am in the morning, playing detective on my husband’s phone. I’m toying with the idea of hiding it somewhere he won’t find, just to watch him panic a bit. It’d definitely get him sweating a little. In a few hours, though, Kaden’s alarm will blare through the house, dragging him out of sleep to get ready for work.
Thankfully, my husband is a heavy sleeper. He could probably sleep through a world war, with explosives going off every minute, and still not move an inch. It’s no shock that Kaden hasn’t come looking for me while I’ve been sitting in my car, or even noticed I’m missing from our bed. The man sleeps like the dead.
With my mind in complete turmoil and my body weighed down by grief, I feel drained and absolutely exhausted. So, Idecide to call it a day, fully aware that sleep will elude me—probably for a long time.
It’s early on a Thursday morning and the first week of school holidays. At least I have the whole day ahead to try and rest. God knows, I need it now more than ever.
Quietly stepping out of the car, I gently shut the door and walk the short distance to Kaden’s motorbike sitting idle on the other side of the garage. Placing the phone back in the top box, just how he left it, I carefully close the lid, and take in a few deep breaths before making my way back to our bedroom.
After stepping into the bedroom, I move quietly towards my husband’s side of the bed. In the still darkness, I can just make out the silhouette of his sleeping form. He looks peaceful, angelic almost, lying on his stomach with one arm under the pillow, the blanket pooled around his waist showcasing his bare torso. His muscular back displays a large Nordic raven tattoo with its wings spread across his shoulder blades, a tribute, he once said, to his Scandinavian roots. Even though the thought of him makes me sick, there’s no denying that this man is perfectly sculpted. Effortlessly sexy.
His eyelids and thick lashes flutter in his sleep, making me wonder if he’s dreaming abouther? I saunter over to my side of the bed, peeling the blanket back and slowly climbing in, careful not to wake him.
As I lie on my back staring at the ceiling, I can feel my mind and heartbeat racing.
I’m physically and emotionally spent, but I force myself to breathe.
Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.
I focus on Kaden’s gentle breathing, waiting—hoping—for exhaustion to overtake me. I wait for my mind to quiet, for sleep to finally come and offer a temporary escape. But no matter how long I wait, how desperately I try ... sleep never arrives.
It’s 7 am in the morning, and Kaden has just left for work. The moment I hear the sound of his car reversing out of the driveway, I sit up, throw the covers off me, and head straight into the ensuite for a long, hot shower, hoping to wash away the remnants of last night.
After showering, I slowly get ready for the day ahead. Too angry and hurt to care about my appearance, I slip on a pair of grey trackpants; an old, loose, black t-shirt; and shove my damp hair into a messy bun.
I grimace at the sight of my reflection in the full-length mirror, studying the dark circles beneath my puffy red eyes, and the expression across my face that’s etched with pain, sadness and exhaustion. I stare at the haunting image before me, of a once vibrant and carefree woman, now empty and drained of all energy and hope. It’s only day one, and I’m moments away from unravelling completely.
Forcing myself to snap out of the mental haze I’ve been stuck in, I walk over to the bedside table and pick up my phone. A notification on the screen alerts me to a recent text from Kaden.
Kaden:Morning babe. I’m going to the gym straight after work and maybe grab something to eat afterwards with Jason. Have fun at the exhibition tonight and wish Kirstin good luck for me. Love you x.
It takes everything inside of me not to want to slam my phone against the wall.
Liar!That fucking cheating liar!
How can I ever believe a word he says anymore? Had everything been a lie? Do I really know the man I married, or has he always been a complete stranger?
Not bothering to reply, I throw my phone onto the mattress with so much force it bounces onto the carpet with a thud as my anger propels me forward with quick heavy steps, out of the bedroom and into the kitchen.
Making it to the fridge, I open the door and retrieve a bottle of water. I’m dehydrated and distraught, and possibly losing my mind too. I need to get some fucking sleep.
I’m just about to take a generous sip when a loud knock on the front door startles me, making me almost drop the bottle of water. Slamming the bottle on the counter in annoyance, I stomp towards the front door to berate whoever the hell is visiting me at this ungodly hour.
Flinging the door open, I’m instantly greeted by my two best friends, standing on the porch, looking fresh as daisies.
