I went to my son’s apartment with a duplicate key, convinced I was going to catch my daughter-in-law with another man. “Today this lie ends,” I thought before opening the bedroom door. But the woman inside wasn’t her: beside a bottle of champagne, I found my own husband after 32 years of marriage… and what I heard next was even worse.

A cork popped.

Champagne.

Then the woman said,

“Oh, my love, you really are a magician.”

She laughed again.

“But what if Samuel comes home early?”

My jaw clenched.

Samuel.

She knew my son’s name.

Of course she did.

I imagined Chloe inside.

Maybe wearing one of those expensive robes she bought online.

Maybe lying in the bed my son paid for.

My anger exploded.

Then the man answered.

“Don’t worry.”

“Samuel is at work.”

“I got the key myself.”

“And Chloe won’t be back until tonight.”

Every muscle in my body locked.

I knew that voice.

I had heard it every morning for thirty-two years.

I had heard it say good morning.