Jason walked out of the bathroom, cheerful, fresh, towel-drying his hair.
“Listen, I’m gonna get dressed and head to the shop, okay? I’ll be back by lunch. We can grab a bite together.”
“Okay,” Sarah nodded, trying to keep her voice steady. “I’ll probably head over to see Emily. She left her purse here yesterday.”
It was a lie, but Sarah couldn’t think of anything else. She couldn’t tell the truth: The restaurant manager called and told me to urgently come watch a security tape without you. That would sound insane.
“Cool.” Jason pecked her on the cheek and went to get dressed.
Twenty minutes later, he was gone. Sarah was alone. She sat on the sofa, hugging her knees. The anxiety grew with every passing second. What if it was something bad? What if… No, she didn’t even want to think about it.
She dressed quickly: jeans, a sweater, a jacket. Grabbed her purse and keys and left the condo. She felt sick. Her hands were shaking as she pressed the elevator button. Everything inside her screamed: Don’t go, don’t look, ignorance is bliss!But curiosity and fear dragged her forward.
The restaurant was a twenty-minute drive. Sarah got behind the wheel of her old Ford Focus—another inheritance from Grandma—and drove. The road felt endless. She turned on the radio, but the upbeat pop music grated on her nerves, so she turned it off. The silence pressed against her ears.
When she pulled into the parking lot of “The Ivy Trellis,” it was empty. They usually only opened for dinner, but the front door was unlocked. Sarah walked in. The main hall was the same, but the tables were stripped of their linens, chairs stacked upside down. The magic of the wedding was gone; now it was just a room waiting to be cleaned.
“Mrs. Miller?” Robert stepped out from behind the bar. He was a man in his fifties, wearing glasses and a neat beard. He looked tired, like he hadn’t slept well.
“Hi,” Sarah said quietly. “I’m here. What did you want to show me?”
He nodded silently toward the back hallway.
“Follow me. You’d better sit down for this.”
Robert led Sarah down a narrow corridor past the kitchen and utility rooms. It smelled of industrial cleaner and faint stale food. They reached a small office at the end of the hall. Inside was an old desk, two chairs, and a whiteboard. On the desk sat a laptop with a large external monitor.
“Please, have a seat,” the manager gestured to a chair. He remained standing, arms crossed. “Mrs. Miller, I want to say right off the bat: I feel terrible about this. I debated whether or not to show you, whether to just delete it. But then I decided: you have a right to know the truth. Better now than later, when it could be much worse.”
“You’re scaring me,” Sarah whispered. Her hands clenched into fists in her lap. “What is it?”
He sighed, pulled the laptop closer to her, and grabbed the mouse.
“We have security cameras all over. Three in the main hall for safety. But there’s also one in the dry storage room, where we keep liquor, linens, and bulk supplies. We installed it after some expensive inventory went missing two years ago. The camera is high in the corner, very discreet. Guests aren’t supposed to be in there, but yesterday…” He trailed off. “Well, see for yourself.”
He clicked the mouse. A video file opened. It was black and white, slightly grainy but clear enough. The angle was from above, showing the whole room. The storage room was small, about ten by ten feet, lined with metal shelves full of boxes. In the far corner were mops and buckets. To the left, an old loveseat, probably for staff to take a quick break.
Timestamp: 9:43 PM. Yesterday. During the reception.
Sarah remembered that time. Around ten, she was dancing with her father.
On the screen, the door to the storage room opened. A woman walked in. Tall, blonde hair loose over her shoulders, wearing a tight red dress. Sarah recognized her instantly—Jessica. The bridesmaid. She glanced over her shoulder, checking if anyone was watching, then stepped inside.
A second later, a man appeared in the doorway. Broad shoulders, dark suit, familiar walk. Jason.
Sarah froze. Her breath caught in her throat. She stared unblinking at the screen, feeling her stomach twist into a tight knot.
On the video, Jason closed the door behind him. Jessica turned to him and said something (there was no sound yet). He stepped closer. She put her hands on his chest. He grabbed her waist. And in the next second, they were kissing.
Not a quick, accidental peck. A long, deep, hungry kiss. Jessica ran her fingers through his hair, pulling him closer. Jason pressed her against the shelving unit, his hands sliding down to her hips. They kissed like people who had wanted to do this for a long time. Like lovers…
