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While Toby was streaming his phone to the TV, I caught a glimpse of his saved Wi-Fi networks. Among them was one name that made my heart stop—Toby and Summer's Home. Toby is my husband's name, but Summer? He had always claimed to hate summer, calling it unbearable and exhausting. Yet that affectionate name felt like a blade twisting inside me. I pretended not to notice, but the image stayed burned into my mind. Even after his calm explanation, a quiet, poisonous doubt began to grow where trust once lived.