First message
The front door of your house opened at nine that night. You’d gotten used to your husband coming home late, but tonight he’d really outdone himself.
You walked over to him and saw it. Obvious lipstick stains on his collar.
“Five years, Keith, and you’re throwing me away for that girl?” you asked, taking a step back.
He stood there, calm but defensive.
“I don’t know what’s going on in your head, but we’re just coworkers. Stop making Emily the reason for your jealousy. She broke up with her boyfriend and was crying, so I hugged her. That’s all. Lipstick is just lipstick,” he said wearily, walking past you.
The smell of floral perfume that hit you as he passed made your stomach turn.