Adrian went back to the master bedroom and closed the door behind him.

He didn't bother taking off his shoes or changing his clothes. He just flopped down on my bed.

I was seething.

Just two weeks ago, we'd started sleeping separately because of his thing with Kayla.

He'd been sleeping in his study lately. I couldn't figure out why he'd suddenly decided to crash here tonight.

[Yvette, do you even remember the way home?]

[Started not coming home at night, huh? Don't think I haven't figured out you're screwing around with Norman.]

Adrian fired off these two messages. Ten minutes ticked by without a response.

Adrian was acting off today. He skipped his usual nighttime routine and wasn't even glued to his phone.

Instead, he just sat there staring blankly at his phone screen.

I wondered, "Is he waiting for me to text him back?"

Sadly, he'd never get another message from me.

As Adrian waited, his eyes wandered to the unopened gift on the nightstand.

Curious, Adrian sat up, toyed with it for a bit, and then unwrapped it. It was a keyboard I had designed myself.

Adrian liked to unwind with computer games, and he had complained about how even the expensive keyboards he'd bought didn't cut it.

I kept that in mind.

As a keyboard designer, I tailored it to fit his habits, adding ergonomic features. It took me two whole months to design it just for him.

On the keyboard's box, I had written: [To my dear Adrian. Happy third anniversary.]

Adrian froze. It seemed to dawn on him that today was our third anniversary.

He looked at the note for a long while, a smile slowly forming on his face.

"Typical of her messy handwriting," he said.

After setting the gift aside, Adrian picked up his phone again, only to see that I still hadn't replied.

His face had just relaxed when it tightened up again. "Yvette, just never come back..."

After five tense minutes, he couldn't wait any longer. He pulled up my contact and called.

I shook my head, thinking no one would answer.

But suddenly, the call connected.

Adrian's face softened in relief, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Yvette, you..."

But he was cut off by the person on the other end.

"Yvette's dead," came Norman's hoarse, despairing voice.

Adrian's frown deepened. "Norman? It's this late, and you're with my wife?" He got up, his voice rising without control.

He scoffed, his face twisting cynically. "So, are you two at a hotel? Listen, just bring Yvette back now!"

Norman paused before responding sharply, "Adrian, are you deaf?

Yvette's dead. She died because you left her out there.

Because you ditched her for that bitch Kayla."

Adrian's hand clenched the phone so tightly his knuckles turned white.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Adrian demanded.

Norman scoffed and hung up.

The line went dead with a beep. Panic gripped Adrian. He frantically redialed my number over and over.

Norman didn't pick up again.

Adrian repeatedly muttered to himself, "Norman, what the hell are you talking about? Spell it out!"