My wife insisted we take separate cars to her parents’ anniversary party. On the way there my 10-year-old son whispered, «Dad, Mom doesn’t know I found this.»

Not at dinner. Not in bed. She smiled like she always did.

Like nothing. Like everything. I watched her.

Measured the space between her words. She told me about her parents’ party. Her mother’s new dress.

Her father’s toast. She described it all like she’d been there hours. I nodded in all the right places.

But I already knew what the wallpaper in room 237 looked like. I knew how many rings she took off before she lied down. The next day, I checked her messages.

She didn’t know I’d cloned her phone last year. Just in case. Mark was careful.

Burner numbers. Hidden folders. But no one is that careful.

Not forever. Their first meeting was six months ago. A conference, of course.

There were photos. Conversations about me. Laughter in texts.

Plans for some day. She told him I was distant. Cold.

Disconnected. She wasn’t wrong. I stopped being warm the moment I stopped trusting her.

That was long before she ever slipped between someone else’s sheets. It all led to one thing. A DNA test.

Simple. Clean. One swab from my son.

One from me. Three days. I didn’t sleep during those.

Didn’t need to. The envelope arrived in a plain package. White.

Unassuming. Like truth often is. I opened it in my office.

Closed the door. Locked it. Not a match.

Probability of paternity. 0.00%. I read it again. And again.

Then I folded the paper and placed it in my jacket pocket, like a loaded gun. That night, I set dinner. Her favorite.

Lit the candles. Played the music she liked. She smiled like she won something.

After dessert, I handed her the envelope. No words. She opened it slowly.

Her hands began to tremble. Her lips parted. She looked at me.

But I wasn’t there anymore. I can explain, she whispered. I nodded.

Not yet. Not no. Just acknowledgment of sound.

She reached for my hand. I pulled it back. I didn’t raise my voice.

Didn’t curse. I simply slid my phone across the table. Opened to the thread of her messages with mark…