“Linda, please. I’m exhausted tonight.”
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I pretended it didn’t hurt.
But when he turned his back to me, I lay there staring at him for a long time.
That was the first night I allowed myself to think the words I had been trying so hard to avoid.
Maybe he simply doesn’t want me anymore.
The following week, I even suggested that we spend a night at a hotel.
“Just one night. You and me. Like we used to.”
Robert laughed.
“A hotel? At our age?”
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Those words stayed in my mind.
At our age.
After that, I began looking at myself in the mirror more closely.
My wrinkles.
My body.
The gray strands appearing in my hair.
I kept telling myself that all of it was normal.
But deep inside, I was beginning to feel embarrassed by myself.
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There were even times when I thought perhaps I should stop trying to get close to him altogether.
And that was exactly when Robert’s behavior became even stranger.
He started carrying his phone everywhere.
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Even into the bathroom.
He used to leave it on the table without thinking, but now he always placed it face down.
A few times, his phone rang and he stepped outside onto the balcony to answer.
Whenever I asked who it was, the answer was always the same.
“Work.”
Then he began coming home late.
Once at eleven.
The following week, almost at midnight.
“I had a meeting.”
I believed him.
Or perhaps I simply wanted to believe him.
Until that Tuesday evening.
Robert was in the shower.
I was making tea in the kitchen.
His phone was lying on the table.
Suddenly, the screen lit up.
I wasn’t planning to touch it.
But then my eyes caught the message.
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The sender was saved under just one letter.
M.
And beneath it were the words:
“Last night was amazing. Your wife didn’t notice anything, did she?”
I froze.
For a few seconds, I felt as though I couldn’t breathe.
Last night.
Robert had come home around midnight the night before.
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He had told me he was at a business meeting.
Then I remembered the faint unfamiliar scent on his shirt.
At that exact moment, the bathroom door opened.
I quickly stepped away from the phone.
Robert walked into the kitchen.
He looked at me.
“Are you okay?”
I still don’t know where I found the strength to smile.
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“Yes.”
He picked up his phone.
Opened the message.
And I watched his expression change for a split second.
He quickly typed something.
Then deleted the message.
And that was the moment I understood something.
I no longer wanted to ask him questions.
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I wanted to see the truth for myself.
Two days later, Robert put on one of his best shirts.
He used the cologne he hadn’t worn in months.
He spent longer than usual fixing his hair.
I stood in the bedroom doorway, watching him.
“Where are you going?”
He didn’t even turn around.
“I have a meeting with a client.”
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