I kept my hands at my sides.
Adrian didn't seem to mind. A smirk tugged at his mouth, mockery glinting in his eyes.
Thunder rumbled outside, rattling the windowpanes.
Adrian flinched violently, clutching his head. "Ah!"
"What's wrong?" Hannah's voice pitched with panic.
He trembled, playing the part perfectly. "I'm so sorry... I have a severe phobia of thunderstorms." He sagged against the wall, legs barely holding him. "I know it's abrupt, but could I crash here tonight? If I go out in this weather, I might pass out."
Hannah turned to me, pleading silently.
Laughable.
"Fine," I said flatly. "We have plenty of guest rooms."
Her face lit up. She pecked my cheek. "Honey, you're the best."
Sleep was impossible. I lay in the dark, memories crashing over me.
Hannah and I had gone from college sweethearts to spouses. Despite my family's objections, I married her without hesitation. I funded her first venture, watched with pride as she built her career from nothing.
I never imagined she would stab me in the back.
The cracks had been there for months. About three months ago, she became glued to her phone, taking it everywhere—even into the shower.
On my birthday, she barely sat down before claiming the company website was under attack. She left immediately.
That night, Adrian posted a photo on social media. A city view from a five-star suite. Caption: Busy night. Big sis says her legs are sore.
Hannah had commented with a kiss emoji.
Later, when I was delirious with fever, she didn't answer my calls. Said she'd lost her phone. Yet Adrian's feed showed a hot spring resort. In the steam, two silhouettes were clearly visible.
Even when my mother died, Hannah used "needing quiet time to grieve" as an excuse and vanished. Meanwhile, Adrian's posts showed tangled hotel sheets and captions dripping with suggestion.
In the darkness beside me, Hannah's phone screen lit up.
"Aaron?" she whispered.
I kept my eyes closed, breathing steady.
Thinking I was asleep, she slipped out from under the duvet and crept from the bedroom, closing the door silently behind her.
I waited a beat, then followed to the landing.
The scene below turned my blood to ice.
Hannah pushed him away—though her voice was thick with want. "I knew you stayed on purpose... you have a one-track mind."
Adrian buried his face in her neck. "Can't stand being away from you for even a minute." His voice dropped low. "Isn't the thrill better this way? Don't you like it?"
They tangled together, abandoning all restraint.
No lights. In the gloom, they moved from sofa to dining table. The silence amplified every sound—every gasp—ending finally in Hannah's long, satisfied sigh.
I turned back to the bedroom, chest constricted by a pain sharp enough to kill.
The next morning, I walked downstairs.
They sat at the dining table, acting as if nothing had happened.
"Honey, you're up!" Hannah beamed. "Adrian made breakfast to thank us for last night."
"I'm not hungry." My tone was flat.
I turned to leave, but a flash of color in the trash caught my eye.
I froze.
Among the garbage lay the shattered remains of my mother's jade bangle.
