My Wife's Birthday Gift

I zoomed in on the pictures the delivery guy sent me. Mixed in with all the scraps of paper were shredded clothes and torn pantyhose.

I lit a cigarette and just stared at my phone, completely stunned.

I didn't snap out of it until the ash burned my finger.

I had been out of the country for a few weeks, and my wife was at home by herself.

Maybe the delivery guy got the wrong apartment…?

Feeling a knot in my chest, I opened our chat.

[Hey, man, are you sure that package went to the right place?]

[Yeah! Harborview Estates, Unit 2502. Didn't you guys already sign for it?]

Then, he sent me another photo.

Right away, my blood was about to boil. My brain just shut down like a clock with a broken spring.

In the picture, my wife, Phoebe Reese, was wearing a skimpy black lace nightgown, holding the roses I sent her with a seductive smile on her face.

And behind her was the shadow of a man.

For a second, I couldn't feel anything.

Was Phoebe cheating on me…?

Was she so stir-crazy from me being gone that she found someone else?

A hot wave of anger hit me hard.

I gritted my teeth and called Phoebe.

The phone rang forever before she finally picked up.

"Why are you calling so late? What do you need?"

Her breathing sounded uneven, like she had just worked out.

"Phoebe, happy birthday. Did you get the flowers I sent?"

"I got them. You're not even home for my birthday, and you think flowers make it better?"

She sounded irritated.

"No, that's not what I meant. I'll be done with everything the day after tomorrow, and we can celebrate then, okay?"

I tried my best to sound gentle.

"Wh-what? I thought you weren't coming back until the end of the month! Why are you coming back the day after tomorrow?"

Her voice shot up in pitch.

"I rushed everything so I could get home early and see you."

"Hey, you done talking to that clueless guy yet?"

A man's voice came through the phone. It wasn't loud, but I heard every word.

Hearing that made everything click. Phoebe was definitely sleeping with someone else.

"Who was that? Who's in the house with you?"

"N-No one! It's just me. You probably heard the TV. Anyway, I'm busy, so I'm hanging up."

Just like that, she ended the call.

I stared at my screen, my expression shifting nonstop.

I kept replaying that man's voice in my head. It sounded so familiar, but no matter how long I thought about it, I couldn't figure out who it belonged to.