Our hamster's death wasn't just a tragedy; it ripped open my world and exposed my wife's secret affair.

After six months away on a work assignment, I came home to find my pet hamster dead.

I couldn't just bury it. I decided to preserve it, make a specimen so it would always keep its cute, round shape.

But as I carefully began the dissection, I froze.

The hamster's lungs were completely black.

That wasn't a short-term discoloration; it was the result of prolonged exposure to secondhand smoke.

But my wife and I never smoked.

For the past six months, who had been living in my home?

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I didn't *want* to suspect my wife, Lily Evans.

I knew that trust was the bedrock of any marriage.