By 2 PM, I expected a break. Instead, I watched her struggle through the front door with six massive grocery bags. The red marks on her arms were visible even on the grainy 1080p feed.
She unpacked everything, then immediately started chopping vegetables. It wasn’t a simple meal; she was prepping the intricate lasagna I had casually mentioned craving two days ago. She wasn’t cheating on me; she was serving me.
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I felt a strange sinking feeling in my gut, but my cynicism held on. *Maybe she’s cleaning up before he comes over,* I told myself. *Maybe this is the setup.* I kept watching, eyes burning.