By the time the day finally ends, exhaustion has settled deep in my bones. I ask Ms. Tina to keep an eye on the girls so I can escape to the library, curl up in my reading nook, and—hopefully—get a few hours of sleep with a glass of wine in hand.

But my phone won’t stop buzzing. Over and over.

Annoyed, I finally check it, only to be hit with a flood of texts about articles and social media posts. I frown as I scroll, the headlines flashing like neon signs straight from hell.

Headline #1: A Culinary Match Made in Heaven

Headline #2: Little House on the Prairie Cheating Scandal!

Headline #3: Chef Grimes’ Secret Affair: Who Will He Choose?

And the comments are even worse!

Troll #1: Well, he was too rich for her anyway. #golddigger

Troll #2: Chef McGood Lookin’ and Krisa just fit better.

My stomach turns. The vileness of it all makes me sick. People are picking sides, tearing me apart, dragging my name through the mud like I don’t belong in this story. Like I’m just some random extra in his world.

And then, I make the mistake of clicking on a video of Krista.

That bitch.

She’s in full performance mode with her crocodile tears glistening under the bright ring light. Her loyal minions are in the comment are eating it up.

Are you and Chef Grimes secretly in love?

She gasps, “Oh gosh, no! He’s in a ‘relationship’ and so am I. I’m dating a local. So, no, we’re not in love. Or at least I’m not.”

She giggles, sowing seeds of deceit. I grip my wine glass so tight I swear it might crack.

Women should support women. Why try to steal someone’s man?

Krista shrugs. “I don’t have to steal anything.”

She lets it linger, lets it fester, lets the audience fill in the blanks.

“Victor Grimes has got it made. He has the best of both worlds. A cute little girlfriend at home waiting on him hand and foot because last I heard, she isn’t even a teacher anymore.” She pauses, letting the words cut deep. “But that’s none of my business. And he has a hot, bombshell work wife—me! Actually… I think he’s enjoying this, especially since we used to have more than just a work relationship. So, stay tuned! We’ll be on your TV screens soon.”

Her comments go wild, and her eyes glimmer as she teases the world with lies, spinning her narrative with that vindictive little smirk.

I lift my glass to take another sip, but halfway through, I stop, set it down, and down the whole damn bottle instead.

An hour later, a warm hand nudges me awake, followed by a quiet whisper against my ear.

“Kerry, wake up, please. I’m so sorry.”