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Confronting Jake
That night, I waited at the kitchen table, replaying the footage. When Jake walked in, he smiled like nothing happened.
I didn’t smile back. “We need to talk.”
He froze. “What’s wrong?”
I held up the tablet. “Care to explain this?”
He glanced at the screen. “Emily, you’re overreacting. Just pals.”
“Pals?” I snapped. “Every time I leave, it’s a different woman? Really?”
He rolled his eyes. “None of them matter. You’re paranoid.”
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