as I scrolled through the gallery, each image revealing more than the last. There were dozens of photos, documenting a relationship that had clearly been going on for years. Photos of Ashley with this man, sharing quiet moments in cafes, laughing together on beaches, and even celebrating holidays that overlapped with those we had shared as a family.
Questions swirled in my mind, each more painful than the last. Had this affair been the reason for Matthew’s untimely death? Could it have been more than just an accident? I didn’t want to leap to conclusions, but these photos painted a damning picture. My mind was a blur of shock and betrayal, the room spinning as I tried to steady myself.
But there was more. As I continued to explore the phone, I found a folder full of text messages. My heart ached with each exchange, words dripping with deceit and passion, evidence of secrets that stretched back into the past. The conversations were peppered with mentions of Matthew, his name tossed around like a hurdle to overcome, a problem to be solved. It was horrifying.
