Late at night, my wife Liana Conway's alternate Twitter account posted a new update.

[We secretly love each other, unnoticed by the world.]

In the photo, two hands were intertwined, fingers tightly laced, exuding an air of intimacy.

It was the first time I had seen someone make cheating sound so shameless.

***

I had been dating Liana for two years and married to her for three, yet we had never been able to have a child.

After half a year of trying, we still hadn't conceived. The whole process, with its timed and mechanical routines during ovulation periods, was physically and mentally exhausting.

Just after we finished another "scheduled task", she turned her back to me, muttered a few words, and fell asleep.

I was not sleepy, so I went to the balcony for a cigarette and started scrolling through my phone.

I discovered her alternate account a few days ago. It had a watermark on one of the photos she had posted on her main account.

I wasn't being paranoid, but over the last six months, I had felt her growing more distant, leaving me increasingly anxious.

Following the watermark, I found her alternate account, which had only been created a few months ago.

Previously, it had been full of complaints about work, but now it had new content: [Hidden secrets.]

Accompanying the post was a close-up photo of two people holding hands.

Liana's hand was easy to recognize, for there was a small red mole on the joint of her index finger. It used to be beautiful for me, but now it was just an eyesore.

I glanced at the post's timestamp. It was five hours ago, which meant she had squeezed in a date between getting off work and coming home.

I inhaled sharply, feeling my heart sink fast.

Thinking back to her frequent overtime and cold responses over the past two months, I found that was the reason.

Liana and I were college classmates and had moved to Washington to work after graduation.

In such a new and unfamiliar environment, it was easy for the two of us to cling to each other, and naturally, we ended up together.

After two years of dating, we got married and settled down in Washington.

To afford the new house, my family had to sell an old house to cover the down payment, and Liana and I jointly paid off the remaining mortgage.

Liana often complained to me that her female colleagues didn't have to help their husbands with mortgage payments. Instead, they spent whatever they earned as they pleased. How carefree they must be!

I felt guilty because after being with me, she definitely wasn't living as comfortably as she used to. But wasn't it worth it for us to have a stable home in the city?

This was also why we had delayed having children. Our financial condition simply wouldn't allow it.

Earlier this year, the company had a good run, and I was promoted to middle management. My income doubled, so I finally felt comfortable bringing up the idea of having a baby.

That night, I clung to her, kissing and cuddling, but she initially pushed me away with annoyance, saying coldly, "I'm exhausted from work. Leave me alone."

I was riding high on my career success, feeling more confident than ever, so I didn't give up. I leaned in and whispered, "If you're tired, how about quitting your job?"

She scoffed sarcastically, "Quit my job? And what, will you support me? Let the mortgage payments lapse?"

Turning her back to me, she made it clear that the discussion was over.

I was too familiar with this tactic. It was her way of shutting me down, and after so many rejections, I had grown tired of trying.

But that night was different. I quietly mentioned the pay raise I had just received.

"How much?" She instantly perked up, propping herself up on one elbow, her hair a tangled mess, staring at me with wide eyes.

I held up five fingers before letting my hand fall onto her breast. "From now on, I'll take care of the mortgage payments."

There was no resistance this time. Actually, she responded with such enthusiasm that it almost felt exaggerated.

Back then, I thought, It's all staying within the family. Whoever pays more doesn't matter. I never imagined that she would cheat on me.

A few days later, Liana called to say she needed to work late again. I pretended to be concerned over the phone, suggesting that maybe she should quit her job since she didn't need to help with the mortgage anymore.

She replied coyly, "Honey, that's not right. Modern women who don't work are like birds with clipped wings. Don't think you can sweet-talk me into becoming a housewife."

In the past, I would have wholeheartedly agreed with her. After all, we had the same level of education and similar outlooks on life. We both believed that no one should be idle in today's society, and work was essential.

But now, her words grated on my nerves. I couldn't help but laugh bitterly to myself. Tonight, I was determined to find out who the man she was holding hands with was.

I sighed and asked, "Sweetheart, how late will you be working? It's not safe to be out too late. Should I pick you up?"

She quickly responded, "I'm not sure yet. Honey, you can just go to bed first. I'll take a taxi home later."

Knowing she was lying, I didn't press the issue further. I ended the conversation quickly.

Then I opened the location-tracking app on my phone. She probably didn't even know that her phone was still linked to mine. It was a setup I had made while she was asleep.

Her password was ridiculously easy to guess. I had told her numerous times about the dangers of shared passwords, but she always found it too troublesome to change them.

The tracker showed that she wasn't at her office. Instead, she was at a barbecue restaurant around five miles from home.

We used to go there often because Liana loved it so much. Even when I was tired after work, I'd drive her there whenever she wanted.

I was familiar with the road. But tonight, I was gripped by despair while driving.

When I arrived at the restaurant, I parked in a corner by the road. Instead of rushing in, I cracked the window and observed through the big glass windows.

Liana seriously underestimated me. The two of them were sitting by the window, facing each other. Though the glass was clouded with grease and barbecue smoke, I could recognize her instantly. After all, she was someone I had spent five years loving.

The man sitting across from her, though, looked unfamiliar at first. But with a second glance, I thought he seemed vaguely familiar.

The guy looked so happy, while Liana, all smiles, kept grilling meat and serving it to him. She had never been so attentive to me.

Anger coursed through me as I pulled out my phone, zoomed in as much as I could, and took pictures of them.

Then I drove back home and went to sleep.

Until I had concrete evidence, I wasn't going to let my emotions cause me to act impulsively and tip her off.