The Perfume of Betrayal

ner furniture Walter had picked out. Everything was perfect, clean, and cold. I ran a hand over the smooth marble of the kitchen

a small crack into a canyon, and we were standing on opposite sides, just staring. I thought about Leo, our son, sleeping peacefully upstairs. He was the

foyer, shrugging off his expensive coat. He didn't look at me at first, his focus on loosening his tie. When

up," he said, his

ume, sickly sweet and flo

s was loud and cheap, the kind of fragrance that announce

o intense it made my hands tremble. It was such a stark contrast to

stairs. He dropped his briefcase by the foot of the

ed my gaze. He was putting on a show, the good husband coming home late from work. I saw the text he sent me hou

sked, his back to me as

ed from the pocket o

the stairs, and a flicker of panic crossed his face. Before he could m

t his phone. The screen was lit up. A no

fun tonight ❤ Can

own, a taunt aimed directly at me. It was a cheap, digital declaration of what I

the pho

cold annoyance. He didn't look guilty. He looked irritated that he'd been caught. The sweet perfume I'd smelled on his

eps heavy and deliberate, and snatched the phone from my hand. He didn't even look at me. He answered the call, turni

. No, she's fine. Don't wor

A problem to be managed. The cold of the marble island n