“I understand,” answered Emily, and dashed straight into the kitchen to grab her phone. After firing off a quick text to someone, she returned to the living room. From that moment, Nigel became even more certain about his suspicions that his wife was cheating on him. Strangely enough, she let him go out with his mates and on business trips without batting an eye. She didnt get cross when he strolled home, tipsy as a lord. Nigels friends, in unison, insisted that women like this were rare as hens teeth and absolutely no catch lurked beneath. But Nigel was gnawed by guilt.
He was eight years older than his wife. What if shed found herself a younger man and couldnt really be bothered anymore? At least Nigel was smart enough to keep these wild notions to himselfaccusing someone without proof would be completely out of order. He wanted to be absolutely certain before saying anything. So, naturally, he could think of no better plan than to install cameras all over their flat.
Nigel headed off on his business trip feeling as grumpy as a wet weekend. Even Emily noticed how sulky he seemed, and was just about to hand him some paracetamol. Nigel was oddly comforted by her concern, so for a brief moment he thought maybe everything was fine. He didnt really fancy checking the footage online and, truth be told, barely had time for it. Only in the evenings did Nigel fire up the app and watch the recordings. After five minutes, he would slam the app shut and shove his laptop to the other end of the hotel bed, as far away from temptation as possible.
The trip was over before he knew it. That day, after waving Emily off to work, Nigel opened his laptop and began watching the videos. Part of him still dreaded learning the whole truth.
So he opened his laptop and started the playback. At first, everything was as boringly normal as ever. Emily woke up, had breakfast, and did a bit of cleaning. But later, in the afternoon, Nigel caught sight of his always stylish wife lounging about in shorts and his oversized T-shirt, perched in front of the PC, playing a video game. You could hear the voices of other gamers through the speakers. Turns out, Emily was utterly hooked on online gaming.
“Well, thats not ideal,” Nigel muttered to himself, “but everyones got their own hobbies.” Relieved, he fast-forwarded through the rest of the footage. Nothing new turned up. Just the computer and a bit of housework. Crucially, not a single other person appeared in the flat during all that time.
Nigel closed his laptop and exhaled deeply. Now he felt only guilty for harbouring such daft thoughts about his wife. He decided to buy Emily a massive bouquet of roses and take her out for a romantic dinner. But, just in case, he left the cameras up a little longer. He had no idea thatTwo weeks later, Nigel walked into the living room to find Emily curled up with her controller and headset, lips pressed in fierce concentration. A snort escaped him, and she glanced up, grinning conspiratorially. “Want to try?” she offered, waving him over. He hesitated, but the warmth in her eyes was disarming.
Half an hour and several clumsy respawns later, Nigel was laughinggenuinely belly-laughingas Emily cheered his feeble attempts. She tossed the controller aside and nudged him. “Youre not as hopeless as you think.”
He shook his head, feeling foolish and lighter somehow. “I think I owe you an apology. And maybe a rematch.”
Emily raised her eyebrow. “For what?”
Nigel took her hand, the guilt evaporating, replaced by gratitude for her patience. “For ever second-guessing you. Next time, Ill trust the evidenceand you.”
She squeezed his fingers, her smile soft. “Next time, just ask.”
That night, nestled among rose petals and laughter at their favourite restaurant, Nigel realized he hadnt just rediscovered his wifehed found himself again, too. The cameras? They came down for good, replaced by trust, and an unlikely high score.
