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third attempt. The pin number was the year of their marriage; 1990. She sighed at the irony.
    The phone was now on its main menu. She went to the message section and had to force herself to read the texts in front of her on the screen. There were at least ten texts from someone called Shona and one or two from someone called Penelope. Rebecca's heart sank.
    She opened and read the texts. The messages were mostly of a very flirty nature. She was absolutely gutted at the words in front of her and felt as if someone had punched her full force in the stomach.
    How could Mark treat me like this?
    She felt dirty and humiliated and very alone. The life that she and her cheating husband had built together suddenly seemed a lie, a joke, but the joke was on her.
    She sat there on the floor until her legs started to cramp before finally stumbling to her feet. She’d switched the phone off and put it back in Mark's gym bag, flinging his dirty joggers and tee-shirt on top of the phone. Then she kicked the bag unceremoniously into the corner.
    Rebecca didn't want Mark to know that she had discovered his affair. She needed time to get her thoughts together before she told him anything because she knew that he would somehow try to talk his way out of it. She went downstairs and made herself a strong cup of tea which she sipped slowly, the hot liquid calming her jangled nerves.
    Her mind was racing. She was hurt, confused, scared, angry and worried. She didn't know what to do. If Mark was standing in front of her right there and then she would have quite happily battered him with a frying pan. Something told her not to tell him that she knew about his betrayal. She was a firm believer in following her instincts. She knew she had to pull herself together before Mark came home and realised that something was wrong.
    He was very perceptive of her moods, the result of a marriage of almost twenty years, Rebecca thought wryly. The kitchen clock chimed five o' clock. She decided to have a quick shower to clear her head and ordered an Indian takeaway for dinner.
     
    ~~**~~
     
     
    Rebecca was amazed at how she had managed to maintain the status quo this past month, since she'd discovered Mark's secret mobile phone. He didn't seem to have an inkling that anything had changed for her.
    Well, he's in for a rather unpleasant surprise, and she smiled smugly at the shock she had in store for her husband.
    She was slowly formulating a plan to teach him a well-deserved lesson. She smiled wryly and thought that when this charade with Mark was concluded that she should take up acting. She never realised what a natural talent she had for it and felt that she was giving the performance of her life.
    It was all she could do sometimes not to murder Mark as he slept beside her in bed. Some nights, when he was snoring his head off beside her, she'd lean over him and look at his peacefully sleeping face. There were several nights when she could barely restrain herself from grabbing her pillow and suffocating him. She'd catch herself fantasising sometimes about how she could murder him and get away with it and had gained a huge interest in detective programmes, especially when there was any spouse killing involved. She couldn't stand to be in the same room as Mark and it was all she could do not to punch him.
    She buttered two slices of rye bread to go with her salad and made her way into the living room to join Mark, who was stretched out on the couch, watching sports. He playfully smacked her bum as she walked by him and she had to fight an almost uncontrollable urge to break his fingers.
    "You're being very healthy these days," Mark turned to his wife.
    "I'm just on a bit of a detox at the moment dear," Rebecca replied shortly through a mouthful of cheese.
    "You've lost weight, I think," he continued, "it suits you." She managed to smile at him, while thinking "patronising git."
    They sat there in silence watching sports for a while.
    "You're very quiet," Mark