Chapter 2

The next day I called in sick and went back to that development.

This time I went straight to the property management office.

"Hi, I'd like to look up information on unit 1502."

The manager looked up, his eyes professionally wary. "And you are?"

I handed him my phone, showing our marriage certificate and a screenshot of the purchase contract.

"I'm the owner of that unit."

He studied it for a while, asked for my ID, cross-checked everything several times, then finally spoke. "What would you like to know?"

"When was this unit delivered?"

"End of 2019," he said matter-of-factly. "Over three years ago now."

My head started buzzing.

Derek had told me it stalled exactly three and a half years ago.

"Who's living there now?"

He hesitated, probably noticing my expression, and lowered his voice. "A young woman, early twenties, quite pretty. She said..."

"Said what?"

"That it's her boyfriend's place." He paused. "Your husband."

I gripped the counter, my nails digging into the surface.

"I have security footage," he said quietly. "Would you like to see it?"

I nodded.

He pulled up the past six months of recordings and fast-forwarded through them.

On screen, Derek appeared at the building entrance again and again—sometimes carrying grocery bags, sometimes holding that woman's hand.

They stood downstairs. She rose on her tiptoes and kissed him. He smiled, wrapped his arm around her waist, and they walked into the building together.

Every single one of those days matched when he'd told me he was on a business trip.

I stared at the screen, my stomach churning.

I covered my mouth, spun around, and rushed to the bathroom. I hunched over the sink, dry heaving for what felt like forever, but nothing came up.

The property manager knocked on the door. "Are you okay?"

I splashed water on my face, walked out, nodded at him, and said nothing.

After barely pulling myself together, I went home.

When I opened the door, Derek was sitting on the couch watching TV. He stood up immediately when he saw me.

"You're home early today."

"You look terrible." He walked over and reached to feel my forehead. "Are you sick?"

I instinctively stepped back.

His hand hung in midair. He looked confused for a moment, then smiled. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I said. "Just tired."

"Then lie down and rest. I'll get you some hot water." He turned toward the kitchen, his voice full of concern. "What do you want for dinner? I'll make it."

I sat on the couch, watching his back.

He was bustling around in the kitchen, just like yesterday, just like every day for the past three years.

But all I could see was the footage playing in my head.

His arm around her. Her rising on her toes to kiss him. Him smiling and pulling her close.

I covered my mouth. My stomach lurched again.