I got off work early and walked into the living room, only to find my wife lounging lazily on the couch.

And next to her? Some random dude I didn't recognize.

"Babe, you know I'm obsessed with that sweet, milky smell," he said, sipping away like it was the best thing he'd ever tasted.

That was it—I completely lost it.

Meanwhile, our baby was in the corner, crying her lungs out, hungry and ignored.

I didn't even think twice. I grabbed the broom by the door and stormed in, ready to raise hell.

Since giving birth, my wife Sandy Wore had this glow—she looked more stunning than ever.

That night, when I got home from work, she was stretched out on the couch in a white romper that clung to her curves. She wasn't even trying, but the sight of her hit me hard.

I sat next to her, careful, slow. But she knew what I was thinking before I said a word. Her eyes flicked to mine, catching the heat there, and she sighed.

"Not tonight, honey. I'm too tired." There was a hint of impatience in her tone as she yawned.

It'd been like this for months. When she was pregnant, she said we couldn't risk hurting the baby. I waited, figuring things would go back to normal after the birth. They didn't. Now it was postpartum issues, or she was too tired, or whatever new excuse she came up with.

The constant rejection stung, and yeah, I started wondering if she just didn't feel anything for me anymore.

She didn't breastfeed the baby either. Claimed she couldn't produce milk, but I noticed her chest looked fuller—rounder—than ever. How was that possible? I offered to help, to check, but she waved me off, saying it made her uncomfortable.

So, like always, I went back to my room, feeling shut out. We'd been in separate bedrooms for almost a year now—since she got pregnant. A year of nothing. No hugs, no kisses, no connection. I told myself to hang in there, to stay loyal, no matter how much it sucked.

But that night, lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, it felt harder than ever. Sleep didn't come until past midnight.

Then I heard it—soft noises coming from her room.

What was she doing at this hour?

Curious, I got up and crept to her door. Through the narrow crack, I saw her on the bed, curled on her side. The soft glow from her lamp traced her silhouette, and I froze, heart pounding.

A phone sat on a stand by the bed. The phone I bought her.

Was she livestreaming?

No, she was talking to someone. A man.

I caught bits of his voice through the phone. Video chatting.

From where I stood, I could only see her profile. No clue who the guy was.

My chest tightened. So this was it. This was why she didn't want me. She had someone else.

I watched as she bit her lip, her eyes half-lidded.

Anger bubbled up, hot and sharp. I wanted to burst in, demand answers, force her to admit everything. But I didn't.

If I confronted her now, it'd just blow up into a screaming match. Then what? Divorce? I wasn't ready for that. Not yet. I didn't even know who this guy was or how long they'd been involved.

I forced myself to calm down. Storming in now wouldn't do me any good.

Instead, I made a decision: I'd find out exactly who this guy was.

She betrayed me, and they wouldn't get away with it. Not her. Not him.

I'd make sure they lost everything.

By the next morning, I could barely keep my eyes open. I'd spent all night obsessing over how to figure out who Sandy was video chatting with.

At work, my boss, Peter Clayman, looked just as wrecked. During the morning meeting, he seemed distracted and drained.

At the end of the day, while I was packing up, Peter called me over.

"Kyle," he said, clapping me on the shoulder. "The company's swamped right now. How about putting in some extra hours? Work hard, and maybe we'll make you Employee of the Year."

He'd been dangling that title in front of me forever. Sure, I'd won it a few times, but not once had it come with a bonus.

In my head, I cursed him and everyone in his family tree. Out loud? I nodded and stayed to work overtime. When the boss tells you to stay, you stay.

As soon as Peter's car left the lot, I smirked.

What was supposed to take two hours? Done in ten minutes. I clocked out and headed home.

When I got there, something felt off. Sandy wasn't home. It was late—where could she be?

I grabbed my phone and called her.

"Sandy, where are you?"

"Oh... oh, honey, I'm at the gym," she said, panting. She sounded like she really was working out.

"Babe, who's calling you?"

The voice on the other end stopped me cold. Gym, huh?

"Sandy, who was that just now?"

"Oh, that? That's my trainer and his girlfriend," she said, way too quickly.

I let out a cold laugh. Did she really think I'd buy that? Such a lame excuse.

But I didn't call her out.

"Want me to come pick you up?" I asked, sounding all concerned.

"No, no, just give me ten more minutes, and I'll be home," she said, rushing the words.

Then there was a sharp gasp, and the line cut off.

Yeah. I knew exactly what she was doing.

When Sandy finally got home, she looked completely wiped but oddly glowing.

She barely said hello before heading straight to the bathroom.

"Did you make dinner yet?" she called after her shower, her tone almost too cheerful. "I'm starving!"

By the time she came out, I'd already set the table.

During dinner, she even served me some food, like nothing was wrong.

If I didn't know about her betrayal, the gesture might've choked me up.

"Sandy, I'm heading out on a business trip tomorrow," I said, keeping it casual. "Make sure to stay home and behave."

Her reaction was instant—she practically lit up.

"How long will you be gone?" she asked, trying to sound chill.

"Ten days, maybe longer," I said.

Earlier, Peter had handed me a new assignment—managing a branch office in another city. Corporate drone that I was, I had no choice.

That night, while Sandy slept peacefully, I installed tiny cameras all over the house.

Since catching her on that video call, I was determined to keep tabs on her. I couldn't get into her phone, so cameras were my only option.

The next morning, I was half-asleep when Sandy shook me awake for breakfast.

"Hurry up and eat," she urged. "You should get going as soon as you're done."

Her excitement was all over her face.

"Why are you so happy to see me leave?" I asked, watching her.

"Oh... well, honey, you'll earn more money while you're away, and of course, I'm happy for you!"

Yeah, right. I knew exactly what she was thinking. With me out of the picture, she'd finally be free to do whatever—or whoever—she wanted.

As soon as I got to the new branch, I got straight to work. The moment I had a chance, I opened the surveillance app on my phone and checked the live feed.

Sandy had practically shoved me out the door this morning—was she already planning to meet him?

On the video feed, she stood on the balcony in a white dress, leaning against the railing while talking on the phone.

Not long after, the doorbell rang. She opened the door, and my heart dropped.

It was Peter.

Peter. My boss.

He stepped inside like he owned the place, sliding up next to her without hesitation.

"You're so impatient. Can't even wait a second, huh?" she teased.

"How could I let you starve?" he shot back, smirking as his hand rested on her waist.

My fists tightened, nausea creeping up as I watched.

Sandy moved like she was performing, her flawless skin catching the sunlight, her gestures deliberate.

Turning to Peter, she gave him a playful look, curling her finger to pull him closer. "Peter, I'll do whatever you say."