Nathaniel Black stepped through the threshold of the home he shared with his wife, the faint creak of the door announcing his return. The evening air clung to him, but he had made sure to erase every trace of his betrayal. His shirt had been changed before leaving the rendezvous with the receptionist from his office—a precaution he'd grown meticulous about over the past few months. Every detail, every step of his double life, was calculated with precision.

As he walked into the warmly lit kitchen, the faint aroma of dinner wafting through the air, his eyes fell on his wife. She was a vision of serenity, her movements graceful as she busied herself with some domestic task. She always looked so effortlessly beautiful, embodying a sense of home and constancy that he both cherished and exploited.

“Hi, honey,” he greeted, his voice smooth, betraying nothing of the guilt buried beneath layers of practiced deceit. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to the top of her head, the gesture as tender and automatic as it had been before his indiscretions began.