"Crap. The old ball and chain is video-calling me."
"So pick up." The girl propped her chin on her hand, watching him with amusement.
"Are you kidding me? I just told her I was back home feeding chickens, and I've got a gorgeous woman in my arms. How the hell am I supposed to answer this?"
After a long, agonizing hesitation, Max finally accepted the call.
His camera was pitch black. His voice came through muffled, thick with feigned drowsiness. "Babe, what's wrong? I just fell asleep."
I knew he was faking it.
Even the nasal tone in his voice was a perfect imitation of someone half-asleep. Rehearsed.
Max and I had been married for three years. I'd landed a government position in another city, so we had no choice but to live apart. On the days we couldn't see each other, video calls were all we had.
But every few days, he'd tell me he was too tired from work, that he hadn't slept well, and hang up early.
Sometimes when I called without warning, he'd trot out the same excuse.
In that moment, everything clicked into place.
An apple doesn't rot overnight.
He'd been lying. And once a man starts lying, he never stops.
"Where are you?"
My voice was flat. Expressionless.