For seven years, Willette had played the part of the perfect wife. Always home on time, never out all night, hardly any social gatherings. So I had never once thought to doubt her.
But now I knew the truth. She had hidden her boy toy right under my nose, just downstairs from her office.
I got up to leave, but just as I got in my car, I saw her rushing down the stairs.
The intern had already changed out of his café uniform. Dressed in a crisp white shirt, he looked young, almost boyish.
And without hesitation, Willette slipped her hand into his, their fingers lacing together so naturally that it made my stomach turn.
“Willette, your husband was just here,” the boy whispered, pressing close to her. “He said my keychain matches yours. Do you think he knows about us?”
Willette shook her head. “No. Don’t overthink it. He’s not that sharp. All he knows is how to cook, clean, and take care of our kid.”
The boy nodded and pulled her into his arms.
“Your husband’s a real creep, following you all the way to work like that.”
She rose on her toes to kiss him lightly.