EVELINE POV:
The morning sun sliced through the blinds, finding my bloodshot eyes. I hadn't slept. The space on the bed beside me was perfectly smooth, cold and untouched like a hotel pillow.
I sat up, my body stiff from a night spent curled in a miserable ball. The humiliation from last night was a raw, open wound.
In the living room, a note was propped against a cereal box. "Went to practice. Get your own lunch." The handwriting was a careless scrawl, a perfect match for his attitude toward me.
His hockey bag was gone. He treasured that bag, that equipment. He had forgotten his wife.
My eyes fixed on the closed study door. It used to be our space. Now it was his fortress. He always locked it, claiming it held team strategies, "locker room secrets."
"What happens in the room, stays in the room." He'd said it with a smile once, explaining the NHL code. The memory was now a bitter irony.
A powerful urge took hold of me. I had to get in there. I had to know what secrets it held.
I remembered the spare key ring hanging on a hook in the kitchen. My heart hammered against my ribs as I rushed to get it, my hands shaking.
Back at the study door, it took several tries to find the right key.
The lock clicked softly. The door swung open. The scent of his cologne and stale air hit me.
The room was neat. Shelves lined with trophies and commemorative pucks. It all looked so normal, so painfully ordinary that I started to doubt my own sanity.
I began to search, a frantic energy possessing me. I tore through drawers, file cabinets, flipped through books. Nothing. No pictures of another woman, no suspicious letters, no hotel receipts.
I collapsed into his leather office chair, feeling like a fool. Maybe I was just crazy.
Just as I was about to give up, my gaze fell on his laptop. Next to it sat an AirPods Pro charging case.
He used them for his call last night. My heart leaped.
A bolder, crazier plan formed in my mind. If I couldn't find physical evidence, I would listen for it.
I grabbed my phone and quickly mapped the nearest electronics store. A Best Buy downtown popped up, just a fifteen-minute drive away. I threw on clothes, grabbed my car keys, and bolted out the door.I felt like a spy on a mission. I needed the smallest, most discreet listening device I could find.
Wandering the aisles of Best Buy, I felt a strange mix of guilt and determination. I finally settled on a high-sensitivity audio bug disguised as a USB charging head, one that I could monitor remotely from my phone.
By the time I got home, my palms were slick with sweat. Shane would be back from practice in less than two hours.
I went back into the study, my purpose clear. I located the power strip under his desk, a tangled mess of cords and plugs. It was the perfect hiding spot.
Kneeling on the cold floor, my knees aching, I plugged the tiny device in. It looked just like any other forgotten accessory.
I pulled out my phone, downloaded the corresponding app, and watched as the screen confirmed: "Device connected. Signal strong."
I quickly erased any trace of my presence, pushed the chair back to its original position, and slipped out of the study, locking the door behind me.
I returned the spare key to its hook in the kitchen. Everything was back to normal. As if nothing had happened.
I sat on the edge of our bed in the master bedroom, my body drained of all strength.
Now, I was the one with a secret. The thought sent a strange, guilty shiver through me.
I didn't know what I was about to hear, but I knew one thing for sure. From the moment I plugged in that device, there was no going back for me and Shane.
I stared at the app's icon on my phone. It felt like Pandora's box.
All I could do was wait. Wait for him to return to that room, to that space where he felt completely safe.
Time crawled by. Every sound from outside the door made me flinch.
Finally, in the early evening, I heard him come home.
He gave his usual, brief greeting, then walked straight into the study and locked the door.
I put in my earbuds and opened the app.
After a faint crackle of static, I heard the squeak of his chair. And then, a woman's voice, sweet and coquettish, a voice I had never heard before.
"Shane, are you finally done? I missed you so much."
