"If you're going to be jealous every time I go out, just leave," she said before her girls' trip to Vegas with two guys from her gym.
I said, "Enjoy your trip," and let her go. Packed everything while she was in Vegas.
My note: Took your advice.
She came home and called crying. I was already on a date.
The suitcase was open on our bed: a black hole swallowing lace and satin. I watched from the doorway as Chloe folded a sheer black top I'd never seen before. The room smelled of her perfume, an impending departure.
"You sure it's just Jessica and Lauren?" I asked. My voice was calm. A final checkpoint, not an accusation.
She didn't look up. "For the tenth time, yes. It's a girls' trip. Vegas. You know the plan."
"I do. I also know Mark and Jake from your gym are flying out tomorrow for a bro weekend. Same hotel. Funny coincidence."
Her hands stilled for a fraction of a second. Then she resumed packing, her movements sharper. "So? Vegas is a big city, Alex. We're all adults. We might say hi if we run into them."
"Running into them seems statistically likely given the group chat you forgot to leave open on your iPad." I kept my tone level, observational. "The one where Jake said, 'Can't wait to see you, Chlo,' and Mark sent the champagne emoji."
That got her to turn. Her face was a masterpiece of wounded exasperation. "You went through my iPad?"
"You left it on the couch. The notification popped up. I didn't dig; it dug itself." I leaned against the doorframe, crossing my arms. "It just feels off, Chloe. A girls' trip where your two main gym buddies just happen to be there solo? Their girlfriends aren't going. It's a weird dynamic. It feels disrespectful."