Chapter 3
Michael came back the next afternoon.
He dragged his suitcase in and gave me a hug the moment he walked through the door.
"Babe, did you miss me?"
He smelled fresh and clean. No perfume, just a faint whiff of tobacco.
Looked like he made sure to cover all his bases.
I didn't push him away, and even managed a smile.
"Back so soon? I thought you were going to be gone for a week?"
Michael let go of me and tweaked my nose affectionately.
"The deal went very smoothly, and the client was satisfied. The VP will handle the follow-up.
"Besides, I was worried about leaving you home by yourself."
He was swapping out his shoes as he talked.
But the ones he took off weren't the gray sneakers I'd spotted at the other woman's place.
They were a pair of black leather business shoes.
He rolled his suitcase over to the wall and dropped onto the couch.
"Everything okay at home? No more leaks from upstairs?"
He sounded so casual, as if he were truly just a husband who cared about his family.
I poured him a glass of water.
"No, no leaks. Everything's fine."
"Really? That's good." He took a sip of water, as if a weight had just been lifted off his shoulders.
"Why didn't you reply to my messages yesterday? I called, and your phone was off. I was worried sick."
I sat across from him, watching him in silence.
Just watching him play his part.
"My phone was on silent, so I didn't hear anything. Then Lily started acting up, and after I got her to sleep, I ended up dozing off myself." I said.
Every word came out clear and calm.
It was the most normal and reasonable explanation from a wife to a husband who came home late.
Michael didn't suspect a thing. He just smiled. "I knew you'd be worn out."
He stood up and tried to hug me.
"Babe, this project's bonus is huge. I'll buy you a new car when it comes in."
I stepped away from him.
Michael stiffened for a moment.
He looked at me, his eyes flashing with confusion.
"What's wrong?"
"Michael," I said, my gaze locked on him, enunciating every word, "were you really at a business dinner yesterday?"
His expression flickered for a split second, so quick that I almost missed it.
But he pulled himself together almost instantly.
"Of course! Where else would I be? The contract's signed. Come on, you really think I'd lie to you?"
As he spoke, he pulled out a document from his briefcase and offered it to me.
"Look, the client's stamp is right here."
I didn't take it and just stared straight into his eyes.
"Really? So, is Sophie from 602 upstairs your client, too?"
The air froze instantly.
The gentle, caring mask Michael always wore showed its first crack.
His gaze flickered, unable to meet mine.
"I don't know what you're talking about. Who's Sophie?"
"I just think it's quite a coincidence."
I gave a faint, cold smile.
"Every time you when on a business trip, the upstairs starts leaking. And every time you come back, the leak just magically disappears. Isn't that just a little too much of a coincidence?"
Michael's Adam's apple bobbed nervously.
He tried to keep his cool. "It's just a coincidence, that's all. Don't overthink it."
"I'm not overthinking it."
I stood up and walked right up to him.
"I just want to know how it feels, strutting around in the birthday sneakers I gave you while you were busy with your so-called 'client'?
"Didn't you say you couldn't bear to wear those shoes?"
Michael looked like his brain had just short-circuited.
His face drained of color, turning deathly pale in an instant.
His lips parted, but not a single word came out.
He knew that I knew everything.
His ridiculous facade had been peeled away, layer by layer, until he was completely exposed.
The living room was dead silent.
It took ages before Michael finally found his voice.
"Claire... please, I can explain."
His voice was rough, desperate, and totally panicked.
"Explain?"
I pulled out my phone and hit the play button.
It was the recording from my call to him yesterday.
"Sorry, the number you are calling is unavailable..."
The cold, automated system voice cut through the silence of the living room, crystal clear.
I turned off the recording.
"Your phone wasn't out of battery. You turned it off. You were hiding from me."
Michael looked at me, and real fear finally showed in his eyes.
In front of him, I was calm, clear-headed, and even a little ruthless.
He felt a strange, new fear, as if he was facing someone he'd never met before.
He was used to me being gentle and always going along with him.
But he forgot that even a hare would bite when cornered.
"Claire, I was wrong. I really was."
He reached out, trying to take my hand.
"Forgive me this once, please. I'll cut things off with her, I promise!"
I stared at him, the man I'd loved for thirteen years.
Right then, I didn't feel hate or pain.
All I could think was how ridiculous it was.
I took a step back, avoiding his touch.
Then I stared at him and said the words I had gone over in my head countless times in my mind.
"Michael, let's talk about getting a divorce."