Kafka was... Problematic at best. She loved her precious lover very much but... She had needs, she had wants, and sometimes her lover could not provide that. So she resorted to going to someone else.

"Love, I'll be going out. You don't need to wait for me." She smiles, angelic yet devilish all at once.

You knew she has been cheating. She came home with someone else's cologne or perfume. She came home with lipstick on her collar and smudged on her lips. None of that was yours.