He Counted 99 Nights of Deception

After Chloe survived domestic violence, I wanted to help her get back on her feet. I emptied my savings to open a private rehab clinic for her.

When she worried about a lack of clients, I funneled my own patients to her. My fiancé, Arthur, constantly complained about it. "If she doesn't have the guts, she shouldn't have opened a clinic. You have to clean up her mess every single time. Is she just some helpless porcelain doll?"

We fought over it. "Chloe is practically my own sister. I owe this to her. When you treat her poorly, you're disrespecting my family!"

Later, I went abroad for a medical exchange program that lasted over three months. When I returned, I found ninety-nine post-rehab thank-you gift boxes stacked in my home. While I was away, Arthur texted me just to brag. "See how well I take care of your good sister's business!"

I was thrilled. I thought Arthur had finally compromised for my sake, accepting my care and love for Chloe.

Until I came back early. I was in the hospital security room, trying to pull up footage of my own office. A misclick switched the feed to the clinic director's office instead.

My fiancé, Arthur, had my "good sister," Chloe, pinned against her desk.

"Arthur, same rules. Remember to take a gift box for Aria tonight. Don't pay me, or my conscience will eat at me."

"It's fine, Chloe. That makes ninety-nine times. We can just placate Aria. I'm the one who came onto you; you don't need to sacrifice anything."

I stood in front of the monitors, my fingers resting cold on the mouse. I didn't move.

He wasn't taking care of Chloe's business at all.

That was the number of times they had betrayed me.

One in the morning. I stood outside the door of my own apartment.

A few empty beer bottles were scattered across the floor.

Ding. The elevator doors slid open.

Arthur stepped out, pushing a wheelchair. Chloe sat in it. A second ago, he was laughing with her in a hushed, intimate tone. The next second, his eyes landed on me leaning against the doorframe, and the smile froze on his face.

Chloe immediately clutched her ankle and scrambled, trying to stand up from the chair in sheer panic. "Aria? Aren't... aren't you supposed to be back next week? My clinic ran so late today, and I sprained my ankle. Arthur was just pushing me back here to treat it..."

I didn't reach for her outstretched hand. My gaze locked onto Arthur's face. "If I hadn't come back early, I wouldn't have known our apartment passcode had been changed."

His eyes darted away. He pushed the wheelchair forward, trying to maneuver around me. "Don't throw a tantrum right now. Chloe is in a lot of pain. Besides, I just changed the lock cylinder. I was about to tell you."

"And you just casually registered her fingerprint as the admin?"

I didn't raise my voice. I merely glanced down at the green light glowing on the smart lock.

"My fingerprint only grants guest access. Hers belongs to the owner."

All the color instantly drained from Chloe's face. Tears began to well up in her eyes.

Arthur frowned. He smoothly unlocked the door with his thumbprint, pushed it open, and casually grabbed a bottle of water from the shoe cabinet, holding it out to me. "You reek of alcohol. This place is close to the clinic. It's not safe for Chloe to go home alone after working this late. I just let her stay here temporarily. Do you really have to make it sound so ugly?"

I didn't take the water.

Instead, I looked down at the mountain of gift boxes piled up in the entryway. The ribbon on the very top box had been tied by my own hands.

"You're right. It is pretty unsafe."

"After all, the desk in the director's office really isn't wide enough. You two could easily roll off of it while lying there."

I violently kicked the stack of boxes, sending them crashing across the floor.

"Chloe! How's my man? Getting used to him yet? Are these gift boxes the prostitution fee for sleeping with your best friend's fiancé? So generous of you!"

Chloe let out a sharp gasp, her hands flying up to cover her mouth.

"You know? I'm so sorry, Aria. I'm sorry, I really didn't mean to..."

"Aria!" Arthur's voice suddenly spiked in volume.

He didn't explain. His first instinct was to strip off his jacket and drape it over Chloe's shivering shoulders, physically shielding her and the wheelchair behind his body.

"She's like a sister to you. Even if you're upset, couldn't you do this in private?" He guarded the wheelchair, looking at me with a gaze that bordered on pure revulsion. "I'm taking her downstairs. I'll have the driver take her home so she doesn't catch a cold from all the sweat you just scared out of her. You stay here and cool your head!"

Leaning against the wall, I watched him desperately pivot the wheelchair to leave.

The second they passed right under the overhead light in the hallway, my eyes caught something and froze.

On their heads sat two identical, custom-made couple's scrub caps.

The brim of his cap was embroidered with a "C." The brim of hers was embroidered with an "A."

"Arthur, a year ago, when I wanted to custom-order couple's scrub caps, what did you tell me?"

"Didn't you say that kind of thing was too flashy? Too tacky?"

Arthur stood there, his mouth slightly open, his face deadly pale. He couldn't utter a single syllable in his defense.

The elevator doors slid shut.

I walked back into the apartment, sat on the couch, and waited.

I waited for him to put Chloe in the car.

I waited for a very long time.

he finally came back.