He used to leave it on the table without thinking, but now he always placed it face down.
A few times, his phone rang and he stepped outside onto the balcony to answer.
Whenever I asked who it was, the answer was always the same.
“Work.”
Then he began coming home late.
Once at eleven.
The following week, almost at midnight.
“I had a meeting.”
I believed him.
Or perhaps I simply wanted to believe him.
Until that Tuesday evening.
Robert was in the shower.
I was making tea in the kitchen.
His phone was lying on the table.
Suddenly, the screen lit up.
I wasn’t planning to touch it.
But then my eyes caught the message.
The sender was saved under just one letter.
M.
And beneath it were the words:
“Last night was amazing. Your wife didn’t notice anything, did she?”
I froze.
For a few seconds, I felt as though I couldn’t breathe.
