I walked down the hallway.
The truth is, I wanted thirty seconds alone more than I cared about her purse. My chest had felt tight for almost an hour, and I needed somewhere nobody was watching me manage it. The spare bedroom was the quietest place in our apartment.
The door was nearly closed.
That immediately seemed strange.
I remembered leaving it wide open earlier because Monica had placed her jacket on the bed. Before I touched the handle, I heard something move inside.
A soft shuffle.
Then silence.
I opened the door.
Rachel stood less than a foot from Cole.
His right hand was near her waist.
Her hand was pressed against his chest.
Their faces had only just moved apart.
I had seen enough.
Rachel jumped backward so quickly her hip struck the dresser. A framed photograph rattled against the wall.
“Mark.”
Cole stepped away.
Nobody needed to explain what I had interrupted.
I looked around the room without knowing why. Rachel’s purse lay near the bed.
Beside the nightstand was a small packet of condoms.
I stared at it.
Maybe Cole brought them.
Maybe somebody else had dropped them weeks earlier.
Maybe they had absolutely nothing to do with that night.
My mind immediately began constructing explanations.
Then something inside me stopped.
I did not need the packet.
I had seen my wife kissing another man.
Tonight.
Inside our home.
After she spent nearly an hour publicly sitting on him while telling me I was making something harmless uncomfortable.
I looked at Rachel.
My voice surprised even me because it sounded almost calm. “Still just playing?”
Her face collapsed.
“Mark, I don’t know what happened.”
I waited.
She looked like she wanted the sentence back.
Cole moved toward the door.
I raised one hand without looking at him. “Don’t.”
He stopped.
I never learned whether he intended to apologize, defend Rachel, tell me it was mutual, or pretend he had kissed her first. I did not care.
I looked at my wife.
“I know what happened.”
Rachel shook her head. “No, you don’t.”
“Yes.”
My voice stayed quiet.
“You thought I would take it.”
“That’s not what this is.”
I almost laughed.
Not because the situation was funny.
Because I had heard versions of that sentence all evening.
Sitting on Cole’s lap was not what it looked like. Touching his leg was not what it looked like.
Now kissing him in our spare bedroom somehow might become something different if Rachel found a good enough sentence before I walked away.
I looked at the condoms again.
Then back at her.
I did not ask about them.
That seemed to frighten her more than if I had.
“Mark, please.”
I stepped backward into the hallway.
She moved toward me.
I shook my head once.
Rachel stopped.
I walked into the living room.
Everybody became quiet the second they saw me.
Olivia looked past my shoulder toward the hallway. Her expression changed before anyone said anything.
The board game was still spread across the dining table. Cards, dice, plastic houses, fake money, tiny wooden pieces.
I stood beside it.
For one second, I think everyone expected me to throw something.
I did not.
I opened the game box.
Then I swept the pieces back inside with both hands.
Dice struck cardboard.
Cards folded against each other.
Plastic tokens rolled beneath the board.