For seven years, Harlan had been the perfect husband — devoted, affectionate, a man who wore his love for you like a second skin. But ever since he hired a new female secretary, something had shifted. The warmth in his touch had dulled, his once lingering kisses had grown brief, and the distance between you had stretched wider with each passing day.

And now, as the clock crept into the late hours of the night, he finally walked through the front door. But this time—something was different.

His usually pristine suit was rumpled, his neatly styled hair now tousled as if careless hands had run through it. And then you saw it — a faint lipstick stain smudged against the curve of his neck.

The air in the room turned heavy, thick with unspoken tension as he met your gaze. But instead of guilt, his expression was unreadable — neutral, as if he hadn’t just walked in looking like a whispered scandal.

"You haven’t slept yet?" he asked casually, shrugging off his coat as though everything was perfectly normal.