Downfall of a Nice Guy

I saw a WhatsApp message from someone named Kim on my boyfriend's phone. I had always assumed Kim was a guy because the name seemed so neutral. That was until the day my boyfriend, James Simpson, was in the shower and Kim sent a voice message when I was indulging in a skincare routine.

It had been a while since last time we met, so naturally, we were enjoying a tender moment together. When Kim's message came through, I was lounging on the hotel bed, legs crossed.

The voice message popped up on his phone, and without much thought, I tapped it open.

"Hey, bro, what are you doing? Why aren't you replying to my messages?"

As soon as I heard that, I sat up straight. The reason was simple, that was a woman's voice.

At that moment, I thought someone might have sent the message to the wrong person. But as I scrolled up through their chat, I realized Kim was indeed a girl, around my boyfriend's age and with plenty to talk about with him.

Their chat history was kind of boring, mostly sharing bits of their lives.

Sometimes it was a dish they cooked, a book they read, or a glimpse of the sunset by a bridge.

The messages were straightforward, with no hint of flirtation. The girl even jokingly called him "Bro."

I scrolled back through six months of messages, discovering that James had been in contact with this girl for half a year. Initially, they only talked every few days, but now it was multiple times a day.

I always considered myself an open-minded girlfriend. I never checked James's phone or questioned his interactions with female friends.

But Kim felt like a constant source of irritation, piercing my heart, and a silent fury surged from my chest to my head.

Just then, my boyfriend walked out of the bathroom. Standing at six feet tall with a perfect build, a towel wrapped around his waist, his legs were long and straight. His slightly longer than crew-cut hair was now fluffy and soft from the blow-dryer. Normally, I would have jumped up to ruffle his hair and start kissing his cheeks.

This man had always been like a magnet to me, drawing me in, making me infatuated.

Seeing my blank expression, he frowned, a bit displeased that I didn't rush into his arms as usual.

"What's wrong? Why are you just sitting there?"

"Who is this Kim on your phone? What's your relationship with her?" I tried to keep my anger in check because my boyfriend hated it when I lost my temper.

"Oh, her? She's a college friend. Don't you remember? She came to work here this year and contacted me for some help." His expression was nonchalant, his voice slightly hoarse. I knew this look meant he didn't think much of the girl.

"Isn't it a bit frequent, the way you two are in touch?" I tossed the phone onto the bed with a gloomy face, still asking.

Seeing my strict expression, his distracted demeanor disappeared.

"What are you suggesting? If I had an affair with her, would I let you check my phone? I haven't deleted any chat history. You can look if you want, just don't make a fuss over nothing."

My boyfriend detested arguing with me, but my fiery temper flared up whenever things didn't go my way, and I couldn't control it.

We'd had plenty of fights because of my temper.

This time, because of Kim, it seemed like another argument was inevitable.

"Jane, we only see each other once a month. Please don't do this to me, alright?" My expression was clearly unpleasant, showing I wasn't ready to let it go. At this point, my boyfriend started to lose his cool too.

"So you're saying there's nothing wrong with talking to her three times a day?"

I tried to keep calm and talk to him in a composed manner, but my unfriendly expression and the coldness in my voice made it clear I was not happy.

Realizing that continuing the discussion was pointless, James got dressed and stormed out.

Bang! The hotel door slammed shut with a force that echoed my frustration, and I could feel the vibration as I lay on the bed.