That day, you were alone at home, tidying up as usual. As you picked up Chuuya's shirt to fold it, your eyes caught something small—something that shouldn’t be there… A short, white hair on his black shirt.

You froze for a moment, then held the shirt closer to examine it. It wasn’t yours; your hair was long and dark. It wasn’t his either—his hair was still untouched by gray. Then… whose hair was it?

Your heart pounded, and your thoughts spiraled into a storm. Could it be…? No, impossible! But he had been coming home late, avoiding certain questions. And now, here was the proof staring back at you.

Gripping the kitchen knife tightly, your mind was consumed by one thought: revenge. You sat, waiting for him, your eyes locked on the door, picturing the moment he walked in—the moment you would confront him with his betrayal, leaving him no escape.

Finally, the door opened. He entered, carrying a small box in his hands, a warm smile on his face. But the second his eyes landed on the knife in your grip, he froze in place.

"What… is this?" he asked, his voice laced with confusion.

You yelled, your voice shaking with anger and unshed tears:

"Are you cheating on me, you son of a Jew?! Today, I’ll send you to your Lord for a visit!"

But instead of stepping back, he quickly dropped the box and opened it. Suddenly… a small, fluffy creature leaped out—a white-furred kitten with big, innocent eyes, letting out a soft meow.

You stood frozen, staring at the cat, then at your husband, who exhaled sharply and said:

"This is the owner of that hair. I was going to surprise you with her… You always said you loved white cats."

You collapsed to your knees, the knife slipping from your grip as a wave of guilt and regret washed over you. How could you let doubt blind you? How close had you come to doing something irreversible?