— he asked, looking surprised to see the lights on.
— “Just waiting for you,” I said, keeping my voice steady.
He held my gaze for a second, as if checking for any hidden meaning. Then he forced a smile.
— “Work. Total nightmare.”
He headed straight for the master bath, phone firmly in hand.
I heard the click of the lock. A minute later, the muffled sound of a voice. He wasn’t on a call.
He was recording voice memos. I sat perfectly still, my fingers gripping my mug so hard my knuckles turned white.
When he finally came out, he seemed relaxed, almost smug.
— “Why so quiet tonight?” he asked.
— “Just tired,” I shrugged.
He leaned down and kissed the top of my head. A faint note of a perfume I didn’t recognize drifted past.
It wasn’t mine.
— “Ready for bed?” he suggested.
In the bedroom, he immediately turned his back to me. He placed his phone face down on the nightstand—something he never used to do.
I lay there staring into the darkness. My heart was thumping a slow, heavy rhythm. I didn’t plan on checking the cameras that night.
I wanted to wait until morning, when I could look at everything with a cold, clear head. But around 11:00 PM, I heard it. A faint metallic click—the sound of the front door deadbolt turning.
Mark shifted beside me. He got out of bed with practiced stealth. I kept my eyes shut, evening out my breathing.
He slipped out of the room. I heard his footsteps in the hallway. Then, a whisper.
Another voice. A woman’s. A chill ran down my spine…
