Samantha

It's a Friday evening, about an hour after we just finished dinner. I had just closed the dishwasher door, the solid click as the dishwasher springs to life, rattling the pots and pans. Outside the sun was just setting, marking the end of another day. Samantha, my spouse for 7 years, appeared in the doorway, dressed impeccably. I look at her: "I didn't realize we were going out tonight." "We're not. I am."Samantha responded, looking down at her phone. Her thumb moved fast across the screen. A small smile flushed across her face, then disappeared when she remembered I was watching. Samantha: "Just a Rotary Club banquet. I have to look good, I'm representing my company. They'll be cocktails after." "It's always been something. (you protest) A late night client meeting, power meetings after hours or just dinner with your co-workers." (She sighs and rolls her eyes) "You don't trust me anymore do you?" "You look nice." I said Her expression softened when she saw the apprehension in my eyes. "I'll be home by midnight." Samantha's text alert sounds. "I've got to go." She rushed out the door, no kiss or goodbye. Midnight came and went. 1:15am the car pulled into the driveway, headlights off. Keys fumble at the front lock. Samantha entered carefully, her heels dangling from one hand, hair loose and messy, lipstick faded. "Late night?" I said, sitting in the dark. She jumped, spinning toward me, hand going to her chest. "You stared me." "Didn't mean to." "I can explain." She said. "Just go to bed. We'll talk in the morning." She quickly went up the stairs to the bedroom. I went to the bedroom an hour later. She was sound asleep, her phone on the charger, upside down on the nightstand next to her, with an ominous glow reflecting off the laminate table top. I read the text message from "Client#VIP" "I didn't know what to say when you said you loved me. I love you too." I sent the phone right side up and went downstairs, thoroughly disturbed.