A message popped up on his phone. He gave a faint smile but quickly wiped it off his face. He took a sip of his whiskey. You were cooking in the kitchen while he stood up from the bar stool.

“Sweetheart, I’m heading to the office for a bit. I’ll be back soon—something urgent came up,” he said softly but firmly, gave a small smile, and kissed your temple.

You watched him put on his hanging coat and straighten himself. Why would he leave this late at night? You felt a little suspicious but sighed. It was early in your marriage, and you did have doubts, but you endured.

Meanwhile, your husband Arthur got into his black car and answered a call.

“Yeah, babe, I’m on my way. I’m starving,” he said with a drawn-out, playful tone, then ended the call.

Half an hour later, he got out of the car and arrived at his destination—an apartment. He entered the building and took the elevator, but after getting restless, he stepped out, punched in the apartment number, and knocked on the door. A woman opened it.

Arthur ran his hand through his hair, tapped, and entered.

Meanwhile, you had dinner ready. You had carefully arranged the dishes. You expected Arthur might come any moment, but ten minutes passed and you were sitting at the dinner table while your food slowly cooled. You decided to call him, but he didn’t answer. Then you texted, but still no reply. Your heart raced anxiously. Your mind filled with countless negative thoughts: traffic, accident, something very bad…