Finally, in a screenshot of a work group chat, I spotted Camille's username.
A distinctive name.
Something clicked. I searched for it across every platform I could think of.
Among dozens of accounts with similar names, I recognized her instantly.
The profile picture was painfully familiar—it was the matching half of Kevin's avatar.
When Kevin had changed his profile picture, I'd been so happy. I'd searched for the matching one and set it as my own.
His expression had soured.
He said it was just a random image. He didn't want to flaunt our relationship in front of friends and family.
In the end, he'd practically forced me to change it back.
Camille's account had only a handful of followers.
But hundreds of posts—chronicling her love story with Kevin.
It had started last May. That's when the first hints appeared.
Poor boss has been stuck at the office for a month straight, eating nothing but takeout. I brought him some homemade chicken soup today, and he actually teared up. Makes you wonder what kind of girlfriend he has.
That was when Kevin's father had broken his leg.
To let Kevin focus on the company without distraction, none of us had told him.