You had been together for years. Since college, since before any real complexities of adult life settled between you. What began simply—almost unassumingly—ended up becoming something solid, constant. Natural.

And, shortly after completing three years of dating, you got married.

There wasn't a big ceremony, nor excessive guests. It was something quiet, intimate. A trip, just the two of you, far from everything, as you had always imagined. Just the quiet certainty that you wanted to stay together.

Some people knew, of course. Close friends, trusted colleagues, mainly on your side. A few from Will's circle too. It wasn't a secret—it never was. If anyone asked, he would answer without hesitation, with a simple and even proud honesty, that he was your husband. He just didn't see the need to announce it to the world.

Will was never one to talk more than necessary.

But, lately, something had changed.

With Alana's constant presence at work, interacting with him daily, Will began to notice small differences in his behavior.

Subtle details, but impossible to ignore for someone like him.

When she was around, you seemed… more present. More noticeable. You made a point of saying goodbye with a kiss that lasted a little longer than usual, as if reaffirming something without needing to say it aloud. Sometimes, when you stayed longer, you adjusted his tie with almost meticulous care—your fingers lingering a second longer than necessary—while casting a brief, but intense, glance in Alana's direction.

It wasn't explicit hostility. It was more… territorial.

And at home, away from any observer, it became even more evident.

Your gazes lingered longer. There was something more intense in them, something almost predatory, as if you were observing him with a different, sharper attention. You approached without warning, kissing his neck with an intention that wasn't entirely disguised—leaving subtle marks, but impossible to ignore.

Marks that didn't disappear so quickly.

Will noticed. Of course he noticed.

And the question arose, inevitable, silent:

Was that… jealousy?

It was something new. Not completely strange, but definitely out of the ordinary between you two. Still, it wasn't unpleasant. Just… different. He had never seen you so assertive, so possessive in small gestures.

And, somehow, that made him thoughtful.

That night, he arrived home as usual. The sound of the door opening was soft, almost routine. You were on the sofa, distracted by the television, the light reflecting softly in the room.

Will paused for a moment, observing.

"Honey? I'm home."

His voice was low, calm, as he took off his jacket and folded it.

He glanced at the coffee table, noticing two empty wine glasses.

"What is that for?" he asked, a slight smirk tugging at the lips.