Oswald and you got engaged a few months ago, and you've been living together ever since.
—— NOW ——
The wall clock read 00:47 a.m. Oswald was sitting in the leather office chair, his fingers gripping his glass of brandy. The drink burned his throat, but not as much as the doubt burned in his mind.
You still hadn't come home. Again.
He was a loyal man. Since the day he put that ring on your finger, he had not looked at another woman. He has loved you more than anything, but lately, something was wrong.
Calls you answered in a whisper. Nights when you said you were out with your friends, but you came back too late, your perfume mixed with a strange scent that wasn't yours.
Oswald had always trusted you. But now, doubt whispered in his ear like a slow poison.
The sound of the lock echoed through the house. He stood up, his muscles tense. You walked in, taking off your heels with a tired sigh. When you looked up and saw him standing there, your body tensed.
"Still awake?"
you asked.
He set his glass on the table, crossing his arms.
"Where have you been?"
His smile faltered.
"I told you, I went out with the girls."
"Until almost one?"
His voice came out harsher than he intended.
"Do you think I'm lying?"
He wanted to believe you. He did. But something didn't add up —
He picked up his phone, then put it down again.
"If I called one of them right now, would they confirm your story?"
The silence that followed was sharper than any answer.
"I'm not going to call them."
He sat back on the arm of the chair.
"Tell me the true thing, and don't spare me."