Chapter 1

I was filling up at a gas station when I scrolled past a trending local post:

"I want my mistress to come over for an affair, but my wife's schedule is unpredictable. How can I avoid getting caught?"

Someone replied:

"I've got experience with this. I have two parking spots at home. Whenever I'm having an affair, I park my car horizontally across both spots. When my wife comes home and can't park, she calls me to move the car. While I'm going down to move it, my mistress slips away. I've been doing this for six months without getting caught."

The comments praised his clever scheme, and the original poster even liked the reply.

I rarely post online, but I couldn't help responding:

"A bunch of scumbags!"

But when I drove home, I found my parking spot blocked by my husband's car parked horizontally across both spaces.

Seeing my husband, who always parked carefully and never crossed the lines, suddenly park horizontally across two spots, I slammed on the brakes.

The post I'd just read flashed through my mind.

It had to be a coincidence, right?

Alexander was famous for being devoted to his wife.

We'd been dating for five years and married for two—seven years total. He was attentive and considerate, treating me like a treasure.

He never let me enter the kitchen or do any housework.

Knowing I loved to drive, he'd even given me a Porsche as a birthday gift and bought the parking spot right next to his.

Every time we parked, he'd always position his car closer to his side, leaving an extra eight inches of space for me to park more comfortably.

How could a man who loved and protected me so wholeheartedly possibly betray me?

But that post kept replaying in my mind.

I stared at Alexander's car for a long time before making a decision.

I didn't call him to move his car.

Instead, I drove to a temporary parking spot nearby, turned off the engine, got out, and went home.

I wanted to see if there really was an unfaithful husband inside, waiting for me to call about moving the car.

When I reached the front door, I quietly pulled out my key and opened it as silently as possible.

Once inside, I headed straight for the bedroom. The door was half-open. Through the gap, I saw the room was empty.

I turned to the guest room. Pushed open the door—still empty.

The study, bathroom, balcony, even the storage room—I checked every single one.

Every room was quiet and empty. No one was there.

Where was Alexander?

Just as I was puzzling over this, the kitchen door opened.

Alexander came out wearing an apron, carrying a dish.

Seeing me, he froze for a moment, surprised:

"Why are you home so early today?"

He quickly set the dish on the dining table and gave me a simple smile:

"I was planning to make a few more dishes before you got off work. You came home early—I haven't finished cooking yet."

I glanced at the kitchen. Cut vegetables were arranged on the cutting board, and in the pot, my favorite soup was simmering.

Clearly, he'd been busy in the kitchen for quite a while.

I breathed a sigh of relief and smiled slightly:

"There wasn't much going on at the office today, so I came home early."

Alexander nodded. "Then rest for a bit. I'll finish the last two dishes and you can eat."

He went back into the kitchen to continue cooking.

Watching his busy figure, I couldn't help asking:

"Why did you suddenly park horizontally across my spot today?"

Alexander looked back at me, somewhat embarrassed:

"I was worried you'd be hungry when you got home, so I rushed upstairs to cook. I didn't pay attention to parking properly—just left it there and ran up."