At my boss’s barbecue, her husband’s intense stares made my skin crawl. Then he walked up and whispered, “Meet me behind the house in 10 minutes.” I played along and was stunned to discover he thought we were having an affair. But then he showed me proof: months of messages — from “me!”
It was my first company barbecue since starting the job three months ago, and I had to admit, my boss knew how to throw a party.
“Liz! You came!” Jill waved from her spot by the grill, spatula in hand.
She wore a bright yellow apron that said “Queen of the Grill” in sparkly letters. It matched her personality perfectly: bold, warm, and a little extra. In my short time at the company, she’d already proven to be the best boss I’d ever had.
The food looked amazing: burgers sizzling on the grill, potato salad gleaming with fresh dill, and what looked like Sandra’s famous seven-layer dip that I’d heard so much about.
“Perfect timing,” Jill said as I reached her. “The second batch is almost ready. How are you settling in?”
“Everyone’s been so welcoming,” I replied, grabbing a paper plate. “By the way, those quarterly reports you wanted are almost done.”
Jill laughed. “No work talk! This is a party.” She flipped a burger with practiced ease. “Oh, my husband Mark just got home.”
I followed her gaze to where a tall man was walking through the gate.
Someone had mentioned he worked as a financial advisor and usually came late to these things, caught up in client meetings.
He looked exactly like what you’d expect of a financial advisor: crisp button-down, neat haircut, responsible-looking watch.
A photographer from the marketing team was snapping candid shots of the party for the company newsletter. Mark walked over to Jill, wrapping her in a warm hug as the camera clicked away.
It was a perfect moment — until his eyes met mine over Jill’s shoulder.
He froze. The smile died on his face, replaced by something I couldn’t read. Recognition? No, it was more than that; he looked at me like I was a long-lost lover.
The moment stretched like taffy, uncomfortable, and strange. After that, the atmosphere shifted. It was subtle at first, like a cloud passing over the sun.
His eyes kept finding me in the crowd. Not just casual glances, but long, burning stares that made my skin prickle.
It felt like he knew me somehow, which was impossible. I’d never met the man before today.
I tried to shake it off, but every time I looked up, there he was, staring at me with this bizarre mix of recognition and… was that longing? It didn’t make sense. I’d only started working here three months ago, and we’d never crossed paths before.
“Want another beer?” Sandra appeared at my elbow, making me jump.
“God, yes,” I said, probably too quickly.
I was about to follow her to the cooler when a hand grabbed my elbow.
“Hi, Liz.”
I froze. Mark stood there, close enough that I could smell his cologne. How did he know my name? I was the newest hire, and we’d never been introduced.
He leaned in, his breath warm against my ear. “Meet me behind the house in 10 minutes.”
I should have said no. I should have found Jill. Instead, I found myself nodding, curiosity winning over common sense.
Then he was gone, leaving me standing there with my empty plate and racing heart. What the hell was that about?
Nine minutes later, I walked around the side of the house, telling myself this was probably just some weird work thing. Maybe Jill had put him up to this, maybe it was about a promotion or…
Mark was already there, pacing in the shadows of the house.
When he saw me, his face showed relief tinged with desperation.
“Thank God,” he said. “Look, we need to figure out a cover story. I didn’t realize you work for my wife, but she doesn’t have to know about us.”
I blinked. “Know what?”
“That we’re…” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Having an affair!”
A laugh burst out of me before I could stop it. “We’re what now?”
“This isn’t funny, Liz.” His brow furrowed. “You knowing Jill complicates things. I don’t know if I’ll be able to handle being around you at these things… but we can make it work.”
He closed in on me and I quickly stepped back, putting my hand up between us. “Woah! I don’t know who you think I am, but I’ve never met you before.”
“Don’t play dumb, Liz. Not now.” He pulled out his phone, fingers flying over the screen. “Look!”
He thrust the phone at me, and my stomach dropped through the ground.
There were hundreds of messages… from me!
Not me, exactly, but someone using my picture and name for their profile on a dating app. I took the phone. My jaw dropped as I scrolled through nine months of inside jokes, subtle flirting, and eventually… more than flirting.
“This isn’t possible,” I whispered. “I’ve never… we’ve never…”
“Liz, please. I know you’re scared, but—”
“No, you don’t understand. This isn’t me. I didn’t write these. You’ve been catfished.”
He stared at me like I’d lost my mind. I stared at his phone, my brain scrambling to make sense of what I was seeing.
Then something clicked. Almost a year ago, I’d made a profile on this dating app, but it was just a joke… I’d never used it. But clearly, someone else had. With horrifying clarity, I realized exactly who that person was!
“Oh, my god.” I pulled out my phone with shaking hands. “This can’t be happening.”
I dialed the number. The moment she picked up my call, I said, “You need to get here right now. I’m sending you the address.”
My fingers shook as I texted the location and told her to meet me behind the house. I still couldn’t believe this was happening, that she could betray me like this, but it was also the only thing that made sense.
Twenty minutes later, I watched her walk around the corner of the house. She froze when she saw Mark. The look on her face was all the confirmation I needed.
“Mom,” I said, my voice surprisingly steady. “Have you been texting him from my account for the past nine months? The account I made when we joked about mother-daughter double dates last year?”
The silence that followed was deafening. My mother’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. Mark looked like someone had just told him the earth was flat.
“All those times you visited, and I saw you smiling at your phone, constantly messaging… you were chatting to him, under my profile, weren’t you?”
“I… it was just texts!” My mom finally burst out. “We never met in person! It wasn’t real!”
“Wasn’t real?” Mark’s voice cracked. “We talked every day. You told me… I thought…”
“He’s married! And you, you stole my identity. How could you?”
“Mark?”
We all turned to see Jill standing there, and her face was anything but cheerful.
“Get out,” she said to Mark, her voice ice-cold.
“Jill, I can explain—”
“Everything in that house belongs to me. You can pack a bag and leave.”
“But I thought… we were…”
“You thought you were having an affair with my employee, who turns out to be my employee’s mother pretending to be her daughter.” Jill’s voice was steady, but I could see her hands shaking. “Pack your bag. Now.”
The next morning, I typed up my resignation letter. Two paragraphs, professional and brief. I couldn’t face going back, couldn’t deal with the whispers and stares that would inevitably follow.
As I hit send, my phone lit up with another message from my mom — her 15th since last night. I deleted it without reading it.
Some things you just can’t fix with an apology. Some betrayals cut too deep.
My mother had stolen my identity to catfish men on a dating app. Mark had fallen in love with a fiction. And somewhere in between, real lives had shattered.
I closed my laptop and looked at my phone one last time before turning it off. 16 messages now. Each one probably full of explanations and excuses that wouldn’t change anything.
I’d only had this job for three months, but I’d managed to destroy my boss’s marriage before the probation period was even up. Sometimes, the only thing you can do is walk away and try not to look back.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
Source: thecelebritist.com