The next morning was brighter than any so far, but my head still felt heavy — like I was carrying the weight of everything that had happened in the past two days. Still, I forced a smile. I didn't want my thoughts to ruin what could be a fresh start.
I turned to my wife, who was standing near the kitchen counter, half-distracted by her thoughts. "Good morning," I said with a cheerful tone, trying to push away the unease.
She looked back at me, a little puzzled by my sudden energy, but smiled politely. "Good morning," she replied.
"I'll need my lunch early today," I reminded her gently. "I'm heading to the office."
"Oh! Right," she said, quickly gathering her focus. "I'll start preparing it now."
As she moved around in her simple housewife clothes — a fitted blouse and flowing skirt — she looked effortlessly beautiful. Her neat bun and soft presence made our messy reality seem a little more bearable.
I went to take a bath. The bathroom still smelled a bit musty, probably from the age of the building. As I washed my face, my eyes caught something unusual. It caught my eye as the sun hit the right spot. A hole, not too big, not too small,right at the center of the wall, facing probably the bathroom of the other house.
I leaned closer. It wasn't a regular crack. It was round — as if someone had made it intentionally. But from this side, it was dark — covered by something, maybe a board or cloth.
"Hmm," I murmured to myself. "Looks like they've already blocked it from the other side."
Still, a strange discomfort sat with me as I ran the towel over my shoulders. Something about that hole made me uneasy, but I shrugged it off. "I'll patch it up later," I thought. "No rush."
After drying off, I told my wife about the hole. "There's a small one in the bathroom wall. Looks like it's covered from the other side, but I'll fix it when I'm back."
She raised an eyebrow. "A hole?"
"Yeah, maybe from an old pipe or something. It's covered. Don't worry."
She nodded slowly. "Alright."
I got dressed and took one last look at her before leaving. "Take care today. Stay inside. If anything feels off, call me, okay?"
She smiled. "I will."
I kissed her forehead gently. But even as I walked out the door, a weight pressed on my chest — a quiet whisper that something wasn't right. My gut had never been so uneasy in my life.
I spent the day trying to push the strange feelings aside, focusing on work and hoping everything would be normal when I got back. But when I finally stepped inside our home around 8 p.m., a chill ran down my spine.
The first thing I noticed was a slipper by the door — a man's slipper. My heart suddenly hammered in my chest. I tried to tell myself it was nothing, maybe a neighbor dropping by, but the knot in my stomach tightened.
As I walked deeper inside, I saw her — my wife, standing close to a man who looked like he was just about to leave. She seemed tense, her cheeks flushed softly, and she avoided his eyes.
I cleared my throat. "Hello," I said, my voice steady but cautious.
The man turned with a slow grin. "Hey there," he said casually. "I just came by to help your little wife. She was having some trouble with the tap."
My wife's cheeks colored deeper, and she kept looking down, almost like she was hiding something. A cold sting hit my chest.
The man gave me a chuckle as he brushed past, almost mocking me with his confidence. The whole scene felt like a silent challenge, and I felt like an outsider in my own home.
My wife finally spoke softly, "Go wash up. I'll get dinner ready."
I nodded silently, my mind racing. I wanted to ask her what really happened — why she seemed so different — but I swallowed the questions. I told myself to trust her.
Later, as I washed up and we ate dinner, she tried to explain. She said she didn't know anyone here yet, and when the tap broke, the man just happened to be nearby and helped her.
Her words were calm, but my eyes caught something else — the dress she wore now was different from the one she had on when I left for work. The soft fabric hugged her curves perfectly, and I noticed how the skirt swayed gently as she moved. That dress… it wasn't the one I saw earlier.
I froze. Was she hiding something? Or had the day taken a turn I didn't know about?
But as she smiled at me, warm and familiar, I wanted to believe her. I kissed her good night, holding her close for a moment, though my mind still spun with questions.
That dress lingered in my thoughts — a secret hanging between us, unseen but heavy.