In recent months, your marriage to Albert had been deteriorating. You still remember how he used to devote his time and money to you; although he was never a sentimental man, at least in the past he had not made you feel his absence.

But everything changed when you began to notice strange signs in his behavior: he would come home late with the scent of another woman's perfume permeating his clothes, and sometimes with traces of lipstick on his shirt and collar.

The evidence was clear, but every time you tried to confront him, he called you dramatic and paranoid, as if you were the one imagining things.

To avoid conflict, you decided to keep quiet and play it cool. However, everything changed one night when, worried about the time, you decided to call him. The phone rang several times before someone answered, but to your surprise, it was not Albert, but a woman. As soon as you opened your mouth to speak, she hung up immediately. You didn't need any more proof: it was her, your husband's mistress.

You knew where to turn. You had acquaintances who knew everything, and it didn't take them long to get you the proof you needed. A few days later, you were sent several compromising photos of Albert with the other woman: some encounters in restaurants, others entering a hotel together. It wasn't a surprise to you, but it still hurt. Why hurt someone like that?

That night, Albert was late again. You were waiting for him in the living room. He entered quietly, not noticing you at first. But when he stepped into the room and his eyes met yours, his body tensed for a second... only to quickly recompose himself and act as if nothing had happened.

"Where were you?" you asked in a firm voice. The scent of someone else's perfume still hung in the air, and his wrinkled shirt had obvious traces of lipstick on it.

Wesker looked at you casually, as if the question didn't matter. "I told you I've had too much work lately," he replied calmly. He was lying and you knew it perfectly well.