In his mind, he was the clever one in the relationship—the strategist, the one who could bend the truth just enough to slip through consequences without ever being caught. He had convinced himself that small lies were harmless, almost necessary even. White lies about where he had been. Half-truths about who he was with. Carefully edited versions of reality that made his life easier and kept his conscience quiet enough to ignore. And for a while, it worked. He would come home late and offer simple explanations that sounded just believable enough not to question. He would smile at his...
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