Chapter 0004: Shadows of Doubt

As we drove home, my mind was a battlefield of doubts and discoveries. The timeline didn’t add up. The evidence was stacking against him, whispering truths I no longer had the strength to ignore. My hand clutched the steering wheel so tight my knuckles turned pale, as if my grip could keep my world from spinning out of control.

“Mom, are you okay?” my son asked, his small voice carrying a weight of concern that cut through my storm.

I caught his eyes in the rearview mirror, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach my heart. “I’m fine, sweetheart. Just has a lot on my mind.”

The silence that followed was deafening. My thoughts screamed so loudly that no room was left for conversation. When we finally pulled into the driveway, I moved like a machine—changing clothes, and heading straight to the kitchen as if routine could quiet the chaos inside me.

The sharp sting of onions burned my eyes, but it wasn’t the onions that drew the tears I wiped away in secret. My gaze kept flicking to the wall clock—7:28 p.m. and still no sign of him. My chest tightened, a mixture of anger, sorrow, and betrayal coiling together, threatening to suffocate me.

“Mom?” William’s voice pulled me back from the edge of my spiraling thoughts.

I turned, finding him at the dining table, crayons scattered around him, his head bent over the design he was making for his dad’s birthday. “Yes, sweetheart? Are you done drawing?” I asked, steadying my voice as best as I could.

I crossed over, standing beside him while he spread the cardboard sheets out for me. His little face brightened as he presented them, waiting for me to choose.

“Take a look. Which one do you like best?” I rubbed my right hand across my cheek, masking the dampness there. “Are they all not good?” he added, his voice tinged with concern.

I pointed to the one in the center, a bold red heart etched across the design. “I think this one will do.”

His grin widened, his joy so pure it pierced my aching heart. “We really do think alike. I also like that one the best.”

I picked up my phone, snapping a picture to send to the cakerice. “Your dad will be really happy once he finds out that you drew this.” His eyes lit up, excitement dancing in them.

But then the unmistakable sound of the front door unlocking sliced through the room. William’s eyes widened, and he scrambled to gather his designs, his little hands moving fast, as though preparing for a grand welcome.

“Dad’s here!” he exclaimed, voice bubbling with both urgency and excitement.

I watched him, my heart breaking in silence. He adored his father, and it killed me that the joy in his innocent eyes was poisoned by my suspicions.

The door swung open. My husband stepped in, tired but smiling, his keys clattering onto the counter. “William!” he called, warmth dripping from his voice.

He dug into the bag he was holding, pulling out a bottle. “I heard some nice wine came in, so I got one on my way home. It’s a limited edition.”

“You’re late,” I said, my lips curling into a smile I didn’t feel. Curiosity gnawed at me, louder than my anger.

“I’m not that late.” He paused, eyes darting to the wall clock. “I always come home at this hour.”

“Exactly,” I murmured, tossing the onions into the simmering pot.

His gaze flickered. “Did I do something?” His question landed on William, but I caught the shadow in his eyes perhaps was it guilt? Or was I just projecting my worst fears onto him?

“Hey, buddy,” he added quickly, ruffling our son’s hair before glancing back at me.

“William, go upstairs and do your homework,” I said, keeping my voice calm.

“Why? He needs to eat dinner.”

“The short ribs need to cook a bit longer. I’ll call you once it’s done,” I replied, covering the pot.

“Okay,” William said, obediently packing up his crayons.

“My goodness, are you making braised short ribs?” my husband asked, uncovering the pot, stealing a taste with the spoon.

“I ran into Elena on my way home.”

His head jerked slightly. “Who?” he asked, feigning confusion.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I pressed, watching his eyes, hunting for cracks in the mask.

“What… didn’t I tell you? I thought I told you.” He blew on the steaming meat. “Gosh, it’s hot.”

I steadied my hands, cleaning the counter with mechanical precision. “Did she also go on that business trip?” I asked, my voice quiet but sharp.

“Of course. She used to work as an assistant director, and she’s very good at her job.” He chewed carelessly. “The investors were really fussy about all sorts of things. We spent hours holding a briefing in the hotel room.”

My stomach dropped at his choice of words, but I busied myself wiping the grease from the counter, the tissues soaking up more than just oil—they soaked up the storm inside me.

“This tastes amazing,” he murmured, breaking the silence that had settled like a noose between us.

I forced a smile, still not meeting his eyes. His gaze lingered on me, probing, testing, but I focused on the table, afraid that if I looked up, the truth in my heart would spill out.

At last, I met his eyes. They were tired, yes, but restless too, shadowed with something he wasn’t saying. “Did you guys drink?”

“I had a hard time trying to brighten up the mood,” he said casually, his voice too smooth.

“Did Elena drink as well?” I asked, letting my words fall light, though my chest pounded.

He nodded. “Yes, a little.” His hand reached for the wine bottle. “Should I pour the wine?”

I bit my lip, the urge to confront him clawing at my throat. But before I could speak, William rushed back into the room, his energy scattering the moment apart.

I swallowed my truth, burying it deep again. This wasn’t the time. Not yet. But soon. Very soon.

Later, in our bedroom, I tossed my head tie and jacket onto the bed, exhaustion weighing heavily on me. That’s when I saw it. On the nightstand. My husband’s phone—plugged in, and charging.