HANNAH

My husband’s collar had lipstick on it. It sure as hell wasn’t mine.

I stared at the soft pink smear against the sharp cut of his lapel. It was faint, like someone had tried to wipe it away… Wait… do I even own this shade?

I leaned in slightly. No. Definitely not mine. I don’t do pastels. My lipsticks are bolder. Deep berry, sometimes red. This one was too soft and sweet.

No… I didn’t want to dwell on it. 

Maybe someone hugged him hello too close. Or bumped into him at a gallery. Lipstick stains aren’t proof of anything.

“Something wrong, honey?” Nico, my husband said.

I snapped out of it and shook my head with a smile.

We sat by the window of a rooftop restaurant. Not gonna lie,  this felt like our honeymoon in Florence.

He’d picked the place simply because I loved the sea bass. Planning little dates like this has always been his way of showing me he cared.

But for some reason, I felt uneasy… Why did it feel like something wasn’t right?

Nico slid a small velvet box across the table.

“Happy almost anniversary, honey,” he said. That smile of his still threw me off balance.

He opened the lid slowly. Inside, a necklace gleamed. I widened my eyes. Oh God, this is…

“Turn around for me?”

I hesitated for a second. Nico caught it right away. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing. Just… surprised. T-that’s all.”

I finally turned around. Nico unclasped the chain. I closed my eyes when the cool metal touched my neck.

I looked down. A deep blue sapphire framed with diamonds seemed to stare at me.

“Do you like it?” he asked, kissing me. “You looked at it for so long at the exhibit. I saw your eyes go back to it twice.”

Of course, I remembered. The curator called it one-of-a-kind. It is worth over a million.

And now it was mine.

“It’s beautiful, honey. Really,” I said. “Thank you.”

He reached across the table. His thumb grazed the back of my hand. “You deserve beautiful things.”

Then he smiled again, eyes crinkling. “Happy copper year.”

Our seventh anniversary. Two weeks from now.

I got him copper cufflinks with his initials. Simple yet sentimental — very me.

I should be happy, he was always like this, so attentive and thoughtful, paying close attention to all of my daily preferences. Even though I had only glanced at that necklace twice, he remembered it so clearly.

And still… that pink stain wouldn’t leave me alone.

“Why today?” I asked softly. “You could’ve waited.”

He tilted his head. “You’ve been working nonstop. I wanted to do something for you. See you relax a little. Missed seeing you light up.”

Then, he laughed quietly and reached for my wine glass to top it off. “And… I couldn’t wait.”

God, he was charming and gentle. I should feel lucky that he’s mine.

I tried to push the doubt aside.

We went on talking about his pitch with the investors, about my gallery deadlines. He made me laugh a few times, teased me about how I still mispronounced “bruschetta.” The food and atmosphere were amazing.

I had already dismissed my doubts. But then his phone dinged.

Once.

Twice.

A third time.

His jaw tensed. Then he reached over, glanced at the screen… and flipped the phone face down.

That… was strange.

Nico never ignored work calls. He was always on his phone, even on our trip. I fought with him over it. And now he suddenly didn’t care?

“It’s just the board,” he said, noticing my raised brow. “Nothing important.”

“You sure?”

He reached for my hand again and squeezed it. “Tonight’s about you and me.”

But his phone still wouldn’t stop ringing.

“Maybe you should answer it,” I joked. “If your company takes a huge loss because of me, I won’t be able to afford the guilt.”

He chuckled and kissed me on the cheek as he left. “Alright, honey. I’ll be back soon.”

Then, my eyes fell on his jacket hanging on his chair.

Something took over me. I couldn't help but pick up the jacket and check it.

I stared at the faint lipstick smudge. It looked like a rushed kiss wiped off too late.

Then I noticed something else. A hair. Long, blonde, stuck to the seam.

Not mine. I have red hair.

Something twisted in my chest. 

I didn’t remember how we got back home. My thoughts raced through my mind.

Nico took off his tie and jacket. Then he dimmed the lights the way I liked them.

I watched him quietly. He was still Nico, my sweet, thoughtful husband. He always tried to make me happy.

Maybe…maybe I was just overthinking…

Nico wrapped his arms around me. His lips brushed my neck. Even after seven years, he still gave me goosebumps.

“You’re quiet,” he said. “Is something bothering you, honey?”

I didn’t answer right away. I didn’t know how to explain it without sounding crazy.

I turned to face him. He looked at me like I was the most beautiful woman in the world. Just like he always did. 

Before I could speak, he kissed me.

It was slow. His lips moved like they’d memorized mine. And I kissed him back… But my mind wasn’t in it.

It wasn’t bad. It just felt… off. 

He didn’t seem to notice. He lifted me up gently and carried me to the bed.

He looked down at me once he laid me on the sheets, his hand brushing my hair back from my face.

“Let me take care of you,” he whispered.

It was the kind of thing that used to make me feel wanted. Loved.

We had always wanted a child. For years, that was the dream we shared. We tried everything. Timed schedules. Tests. Appointments. Hope. Disappointment. Repeat.

Seven years. Still, nothing.

And still, he never blamed me. Not once. He kept showing up with flowers after every bad result, made me tea on the nights I cried in the bathroom. I knew he was hurting too. 

Sometimes I’d notice it. Like when he went quiet, watching kids play at the park. Or when he lingered over tiny baby clothes in the store. 

And now, he’s on top of me, but I’m not in it. Not tonight. There’s too much on my mind.

“Sorry honey, I’m a bit tired,” I said quietly.

He paused. I could see the shift in his eyes. Then he nodded, no questions.

 “Okay then. Rest, honey.” he said softly.

He kissed my forehead and walked to the bathroom.

As soon as he left, I couldn't help but pick up his phone.

God, I hated how I’d become this suspicious wife, thinking my husband was being unfaithful.

But there was nothing suspicious on his phone. I even went through his chats with his secretary, who had blonde hair, just like the strand I found. But the messages were all work-related, nothing out of the ordinary.

Then, suddenly, a message popped up. It was an image sent from an unknown ID.

But I didn’t have time to open it. The sound of the shower turning off made my heart race. I quickly put the phone back and lay down on the bed, pretending nothing had happened.

But my heart was pounding.

That picture. I could only see the preview image. It looked like a naked woman.