My Smart Scale Exposed My Wife's Affair

I'd just checked into my hotel room on a business trip when a notification popped up on my phone from our family health app.

"New weight logged: 176.8 pounds."

As I stared at the small text, my head instantly throbbed.

My wife, Jayda Cohen, was five foot five, and for the past five years, her weight had consistently hovered between 128 and 132 pounds.

Her close group of friends barely drank full-sugar bubble tea. They were all skin and bones like paper dolls.

There was no way a 177-pound woman had magically appeared in our home.

That meant it had to be a grown man.

My throat felt parched. I reached into my pack, pulled out a cigarette, and lit it.

Smoke slowly drifted through the air-conditioned room as I pulled up WhatsApp and started a video call with Jayda.

It rang for a long time, right up until the final second before it would hang up automatically. Then the video suddenly flickered to life.

The camera shuddered. The background was the light gray accent wall in our master bedroom.

Jayda wore an off-white silk robe, loose at the collar. Her damp hair was falling over her shoulders.

"Honey, why are you calling so late?"

As I looked at her on screen, my eyes unconsciously darted past her shoulder, trying to inspect the bed behind her.

The sheets were slightly rumpled, but given the poor video quality, nothing out of the ordinary stood out.

"I just finished drinking with some clients and got back to the hotel. Thought I'd check in on you."

My tone was entirely normal, carrying a slight touch of fatigue from the alcohol.

Jayda raised the phone a bit higher, showing half of her bare, delicate face.

"Same old. I just got out of the shower and am getting ready to catch up on a show. It's so boring being home alone."

"Do we have guests staying over?" I bit down on my cigarette butt and asked offhandedly.

On the screen, Jayda froze for half a second.

It was just a split second, but then she laughed a little too loudly as she tilted the camera toward the ceiling.

"Are you psychic or something? How'd you know? I was just about to tell you. Jayden had a fight with his girlfriend and ran over to crash here in the middle of the night."

Her brother, Jayden Cohen, had graduated college a year ago. He was tall and solidly built. 177 pounds was a completely plausible figure for him.

The tight, suffocating pressure in my chest loosened slightly.

"Jayden's there? Where is he? Tell him to come say hi."

"Forget it. He's dead drunk and passed out in the guest room like a log."

Jayda's voice carried her usual irritation toward Jayden as she angled the camera back to her face.

"Honey, how are things going on your end? When are you actually coming back?"

I blew out a stream of smoke and looked into her eyes that seemed full of affection.

"The project here is a bit tricky. I'll probably need to stay at the site for another week or so."

I pushed back my return date by four days, extending my original three-day trip.

"What? That's so long…" Jayda sighed and pouted, looking genuinely disappointed.

"Take it easy on the drinking over there. You know your stomach can't handle it. I put stomach meds in your bag. Don't forget to take them."

After I hung up, the room went dead silent.

I looked at my dark screen and shook my head wryly.

After years of dealing with office politics and mind games, I'd started bringing that paranoia back home without even realizing it.