I long suspected something was amiss with my husband. He grew nervous, often staying late at the office, murmuring into the telephone and hanging up the moment I drew near. His gaze was distant, his touch withheld, as though he feared me.
I tried not to dwell on the worst, but jealousy gnawed at me. The signs all pointed to infidelitylate returns home, strange messages swiftly deleted, the scent of unfamiliar perfume clinging to his shirts. I was certainhe had another woman.
In desperation, I took a drastic step: I concealed a camera in his workplace. I thought that if I saw him with another woman, it would wound mebut at least I would know the truth.
When I watched the recordings, my heart stilled. I would have preferred to see him with a mistress than what I witnessed.
My fingers trembled as I pressed play. A woman appeared on the screenyoung, striking, dressed in a shocking pink suit, her ears adorned with glittering jewels, her face painted boldly. At once, I thought: *There she isthe other woman.*
My husband approached her warmly. They embraced like old friends, speaking with easy familiarity. He smiled at her in a way I hadnt seen in months. My heart splintered.
I nearly shut off the video, unable to bear more, yet something compelled me to keep watching.
After a few minutes, their voices dropped to whispers. The woman drew a folder from her bag and showed my husband photographsI could scarcely believe my eyes.
They were pictures of people, each marked with dates and strange notes. My husband studied them intently, asking questions before they fell into hushed discussion.
*”This one talks too much,”* the woman in pink said. *”Best to deal with him before the months end.”*
My husband nodded, scribbling in a notebook.
The blood in my veins turned to ice. They were speaking of murderhow to cover their tracks, the cost, who would be paid. Those smiles, those light-hearted remarksall of it twisted into pure horror.
I had been jealous of another woman. Now I wished that was all it had been. For the truth was far worsemy husband had become an accomplice to the woman in pink, and together, they were plotting actual killings.
