Part 2My Smart Scale Exposed My Wife's Affair

Jayda had been with me since our college days. We had lived in gloomy basement apartments and toughed it out during times when all we could afford was instant noodles for every meal.

If there was anyone in the world I shouldn't suspect, it was her.

I stubbed out the cigarette, turned off the lights, and went to sleep.

The following afternoon, I was having tea at a tea house along Bellweather Street with Simon Austin, a local subcontractor's general manager.

He was a talkative, middle-aged guy. He pointed across the street while chatting about how land prices in Halewyn had shifted over the past few years.

My eyes wandered aimlessly in the direction he was pointing.

Just then, I spotted Jayden walking casually into a dessert shop on the corner, with his arm slung around a woman's shoulders.

It hit me like a bolt of lightning.

Jayden was in Halewyn.

So who the hell was that 177-pound person standing on the body fat scale in our master bedroom last night?

"Mr. Faulkner? Mr. Faulkner, are you alright? You look terrible." Simon waved a hand in front of my face.

I snapped out of it and dug my fingernails hard into my palm. The sharp sting instantly brought me back to my senses.

"I'm fine, Mr. Austin. Just a sudden stomach cramp. It's an old issue."

I picked up my teacup and forced the cold tea down my throat.

I had no idea how I dragged myself through the rest of that afternoon.

I finalized the deal with Simon, reviewed blueprints, and shook hands goodbye.

At 5:00 pm, I canceled the business dinner I had previously scheduled.

I didn't even go back to the hotel or grab my luggage. I just hailed a cab straight to Halewyn Airport.

At the ticket counter, I bought a seat on the earliest flight back to Corvelle.

The two-and-a-half-hour flight felt like a whole century.

Outside the window was a pitch-black night. I stared at my pale reflection in the glass.

I wasn't blind with rage. Instead, every single memory from our five years of marriage kept playing on a loop in my head.

When exactly did this start?

Was it when I got promoted to project director and started traveling constantly?

Or was it after she switched to that cushy administrative job?

By the time the plane touched down, Corvelle was drenched in a torrential downpour.

Out of nowhere, my boss called me. "Why weren't you at the dinner? Mr. Jenkins said he didn't see you."

"Something urgent came up, so I couldn't make it," I explained.

His impatient voice came through the line. "Next time, clear it with the company beforehand. If you blow this deal, how are you going to pay for it?"

"Noted." I hung up directly.

At 11:40 pm, the cab pulled up at my apartment complex.

I walked into the familiar entryway. The sound-activated lights turned on floor by floor with my footsteps.

As I stood in front of my front door, I held my breath.

The hallway light gradually flickered off as the silence settled. Endless darkness swallowed me whole in an instant.

I pressed my ear against the cold door panel.

The room was quiet, but faint male laughter could be heard through the thick, soundproof door.

In that split second, blood rushed straight to my head with a roar.

With trembling hands, I pulled my key from my blazer pocket, unlocked the door, and burst inside.