Chapter 1

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?

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

I knew that trust was the bedrock of any marriage.

That’s why we never installed surveillance cameras, and we certainly never checked each other’s phones.

But perhaps I’d overestimated people.

I scoured every corner of the room, finding no trace of smoking.

No lighters, no ashtrays, nothing.

Was I wrong about her?

Was the hamster just sick?

But then, my gaze fell on the wallpaper.

I remembered it clearly: behind the sofa, there was a small ballpoint pen mark where I’d accidentally scuffed it.

Now, it was gone.

The wallpaper had been replaced.

*That’s it!* If someone had been smoking in the room for an extended period, the wallpaper would undoubtedly be yellowed.

Lily had thought of that and replaced it before I returned.

I called her.

She answered quickly, her voice sweet and gentle:

"Honey, what’s up?"

"Why was the wallpaper in the living room changed?"

I tried to sound casual.

"Oh, that."

She chuckled.

"New wallpaper, new mood, you know? You've been gone for six months; the house needed a fresh look."

Her tone was perfectly natural, utterly devoid of guilt.

"Oh, right, I booked a table at your favorite restaurant for tonight to welcome you home. Make sure you dress to impress!"

I hung up, my mind reeling. After much thought, I posted on a relationship advice forum:

**[Away for six months, came home to find my hamster dead, lungs totally black. My wife and I don't smoke. Should I suspect her of cheating?]**

Replies flooded in almost immediately:

**[Bro, is this even a question? 90% chance she’s seeing someone else.]**

**[Look for details, any extra men’s items?]**

**[Useless. I’m a woman, and I’m cheating right now. Those clues would be long gone, you think I’d leave them for you to find?]**

**[Whoa, TMI, lady! We don't need *that* level of honesty!]**

**[Listen to me: slip the building’s security guard a few hundred bucks and ask if anyone’s been coming and going from your place.]**

I stared at the replies, a cold dread washing over me.

Distracted, I changed for our evening date.

Lily had booked my favorite restaurant and, smiling, handed me a beautifully wrapped gift box.

I opened it. It was the mechanical watch I'd been wanting for ages.

She didn’t like spicy food, but she’d ordered a table full of fiery red dishes for me, constantly sipping water to douse the flames.

A pang of guilt struck me.

Maybe I was overthinking things.

Mid-meal, I couldn't hold it in any longer and brought up the hamster:

"Our hamster died. Did you know?"

She nodded, her face falling into a sad expression.

She reached across the table, taking my hand to comfort me.

"I was going to tell you. It got sick a while ago. I took it to the vet, but they said it was too far gone. Don't be sad, honey. We can always get another one."

Her voice held no trace of panic.

Again, I wondered if I had wronged her.

After dinner, we walked out of the restaurant.

I reached for her hand, and she instinctively flinched back.

It was a slight movement, but I felt it distinctly.

I looked at her. She froze for two seconds before extending her hand again, clasping mine herself.

She smiled.

"You've been gone for six months, I'm just a little out of practice."

I said nothing.

I remembered what one of the forum users had said.

He told me to initiate physical contact with my wife.

If she showed even a hint of physiological repulsion, there was a 99% chance she was cheating.

We walked hand-in-hand to the parking garage. By our parking spot, a young man was engrossed in his phone.

He looked up, surprised to see me, then immediately smiled and called out, "Good evening, Dr. Miller."

I stopped.

It was Lucas Hayes, an intern from our hospital.

Lucas then nodded to Lily: "Good evening, Dr. Evans."

Lily smiled back. "What a coincidence."

Something felt off.

Lily and I were both doctors, but in different departments.

She worked in outpatient care, while Lucas rotated through inpatient services.

Logically, he shouldn’t know her.

They chatted casually. Lucas kept pushing up his glasses, revealing the Patek Philippe on his wrist.

I recognized it instantly.

It was *my* watch. Only ten like it existed in the world, each with its own engraved serial number.