EPISODE: 2

• I ate at the office and just like that he disappeared upstairs. Bernice stood there for a long time before blowing out the candle. The smell of extinguished wax filled the room like a small funeral. She sat alone at the table, cutting into her cold food with trembling hands.
• She didn’t cry, not because she wasn’t hurt, but because her tears had learned patience. It was past 11 p.m. when Ezekiel finally slid into bed beside her. Bernice, still awake, remained still. her eyes fixed on the ceiling. A faint, unfamiliar scent lingered in the air, something sweet and floral, unlike anything she owned. She turned slightly and inhaled.
• Lilac, jasmine. Her perfumes were mostly subtle vanilla or citrus, never this rich. “That cologne smells different,” she said carefully, trying not to sound accusatory. Ezekiel shifted under the covers, clearly caught off guard. They changed the soap at the office. Something new in the men’s lounge,” he mumbled, turning his back to her. But Bernice wasn’t convinced. The scent didn’t come from soap.
• It was unmistakably perfume, and it clung to him, thick, like the touch of someone else. The next morning, as she did the laundry, she noticed a smear of red lipstick faintly etched into the inner collar of one of his work shirts. Her hands trembled slightly as she held it closer to the light. It wasn’t hers. She never wore red. Not since college.
• Not once since their wedding. She folded the shirt without a word and made a mental note. No confrontation, not yet. Instead, she picked up a small notebook from the drawer and quietly began writing, “April 12th, lipstick stain, read, perfume, floral, unfamiliar, denied both.” She hid the notebook beneath her dresses in the wardrobe.
• That night, when Ezekiel returned home late again, she asked casually, “Long meeting?” He barely looked up from his phone. Yeah, we wrapped at 10. Bernice nodded, keeping her voice even. Was it just you and Ted again? He paused a beat too long. Yeah, and a few others. She didn’t press.
• But in that moment, the scent, the lipstick, and the pause told her more than she wanted to know. Something wasn’t right. And for the first time in their marriage, she realized she had started collecting proof, not to confront, but to survive. Saturday mornings were usually quiet in the Montgomery estate, but this one carried a different energy.
• Bernice had invited her longtime friend Tammy over for tea, something they hadn’t done in months. “Tammy breezed in with her usual vibrant energy, dropping her bag and wrapping Bernice in a tight hug.” “Girl, you’ve lost weight,” Tammy said, frowning as she stepped back to look at her. “And not the good kind.

EPISODE: 3

• What’s going on?” Bernice smiled faintly, brushing it off. Just stress. Work’s been overwhelming. Tammy narrowed her eyes. Work or your husband? Bernice tried to laugh, but it came out hollow. They sat in the garden patio, the table set with lemon biscuits and hibiscus tea, the breeze teasing their conversation. “You know I love you,” Tammy said after a long pause, her voice lower now.
• “But you look like a woman who’s waiting for something bad to happen.” Bernice looked away, her hands curled around the teacup. You ever feel like someone you love is slipping through your fingers and you’re the only one trying to hold on? Tammy leaned forward. Then maybe it’s not love anymore. Maybe it’s a performance, a slow, cruel one.
• Bernice’s eyes welled, but she blinked the tears away. I’m not ready to give up. Tammy reached across and gently held her hand. Then at least be smart. Don’t sit still while the ground shifts beneath you. Pay attention. Bernice nodded. That night, after Tammy left, she stared at herself in the bathroom mirror. Her eyes looked tired, distant.
• Tammy’s words echoed in her ears. “You look like a woman being watched, not loved. And for the first time, she admitted it felt true.” The clinking of silverware against porcelain echoed softly in the quiet cafe where Bernice met her sister, Rachel, for brunch.
• Rachel, vibrant and outspoken, had always been the kind of woman who spoke her mind, especially when it came to protecting her big sister. Bernice stirred her tea slowly, her eyes distant, while Rachel studied her intently. “You’re barely touching your food,” Rachel finally said. “I’m just not hungry,” Bernice replied, forcing a smile. Rachel wasn’t convinced. “Is it Ezekiel again?” she asked, her voice gentle now. Bernice hesitated.
• She didn’t want to open the door to pity. He’s just been busy, distracted. Rachel leaned forward, her tone more serious. Bernice, are you sure he’s not cheating? The words struck a nerve, but Bernice didn’t flinch. She took a slow sip of her tea, then said, I don’t know what he’s doing. And that’s scarier than knowing.
• Rachel sighed, reaching into her purse and pulling out a small business card. This is Mario A’s. He’s a lawyer. Discreet. I used him when things went south with Kelvin just in case. Bernice stared at the card. The black ink felt heavier than its weight. I’m not ready for that, she whispered. I’m not even sure where this is going. Rachel nodded, understanding.
• I’m not telling you to file anything, but I am telling you to protect yourself. Emotion doesn’t stand up in court. Evidence does. Bernice placed the card in her bag and changed the topic, but the seed had been planted. That night, she sat by the window of her bedroom, watching the rain drizzle down the glass.

EPISODE: 4

• She thought about about the lipstick, the perfume, the long nights, and now legal advice from her sister. She hugged her knees to her chest and whispered, “What are you hiding?” Ezekiel. For the first time, her love was starting to give way to something colder, suspicion. On a quiet Thursday afternoon, while Ezekiel was still at work, Bernice decided to tidy his study. It wasn’t an unusual task.
• She often helped with sorting his documents or dusting the bookshelves. But this time, she had a purpose. Her eyes scanned the room with careful intention, and soon she noticed his tablet on the far end of the desk, unlocked and charging. It was rare for Ezekiel to leave any of his devices unattended.
• A wave of hesitation passed through her before she picked it up and opened the file browser. The most recent folder was oddly named Estate Docs Revised. She clicked it open only to find it encrypted. Password locked, but one file name caught her eye before it closed. Transfer before noon. Her fingers went cold.
• She took a photo of the screen with her own phone before backing out of the app, heartpounding. She exited the study just in time to hear Ezekiel’s car pulling into the driveway. She quickly returned the tablet to the desk and adjusted a flower vase to make it appear untouched. That evening, during dinner, Bernice brooed the subject carefully. “You mentioned revising our estate plans a while back.
• ” “Did you ever get to that?” Ezekiel looked up sharply, then softened his expression. “It’s in progress, just a few updates. Nothing major.” She nodded, figning interest. “Let me know if you want me to go over them with you.” He chuckled nervously. No need. I’ve got it covered. Bernice smiled, but her eyes didn’t. Later that night, she wrote in her notebook again. Tablet found.
• File name. Transfer before noon. Blocked. He doesn’t want me involved. The room felt colder than usual. The storm wasn’t just coming. It was already inside her walls. The charity ball at the Ligos Arts Hall was the kind of event Bernice usually enjoyed. Elegant gowns, soft jazz, wine, and whispered conversations.
• She arrived alone this time, Ezekiel claiming he was caught in a late meeting. Still, she wore the emerald satin gown he had complimented a year ago, hoping it might remind him of a time they were still trying. As the evening unfolded, Bernice mingled, smiled, laughed politely. But then, near the central staircase, she saw him.
• Ezekiel, laughing, not at work, not stuck in traffic. He was very present and very close to a woman draped in a shimmering red gown that hugged her curves unapologetically. The woman’s hand lingered on Ezekiel’s chest far too familiarly and her head tilted in a flirtatious laugh. Bernice stood frozen, the world tilting slightly on its axis. She didn’t approach them. Instead, she observed.

EPISODE: 5

• The woman’s name tag read Gloria N. She was stunning, confident, deliberate, utterly unaware that the wife stood just 20 feet away. Or perhaps Bernice considered she did know and simply didn’t care. When Ezekiel finally noticed Bernice from across the room, his smile faltered. For a split second, panic flickered in his eyes. He quickly whispered something to Gloria, who walked away with a smirk.
• Ezekiel approached Bernice like nothing had happened. “You came,” he said. Of course, she replied calmly. And you? He cleared his throat. Last minute change. I had to show face. She nodded, her expression unreadable. Gloria seems lovely. His jaw clenched subtly. She’s just a contact for work. Bernice tilted her head and replied, “Right.” Red always screams professionalism.
• She turned and walked away before he could respond, her heart pounding, but her face composed. The performance had begun. Saturday morning crept in slowly, sunlight spilling lazily across the tiled floors of the house. Bernice stood by the kitchen window, watching Ezekiel in the driveway as he shut the hood of the Mercedes.
• She hadn’t planned to use the car today, but seeing him with tools in hand piqued her interest. “He walked in moments later, wiping grease off his palms.” “Don’t drive the Benz today,” he said casually, placing the keys in the kitchen drawer. “It needs servicing. Brakes feel off. Bernice raised an eyebrow. Strange. I drove it yesterday. It felt fine.
• Ezekiel didn’t look at her. Better safe than sorry. I’ll have Ted come look at it. She nodded slowly, filing away every word. That car had never given her problems, not once. And Ezekiel had never shown interest in checking under its hood until today.
• Later that afternoon, Bernice decided to head out for errands, opting to take the backup car instead. As she passed through the garage, curiosity got the better of her. She tried opening the Mercedes driver’s door. It was locked. She checked the passenger side. Same. The keys Ezekiel had tossed in the drawer gone. She walked around the car slowly, noticing a new scratch on the lower bumper and faint fingerprints on the hood. A sense of unease prickled her skin.
• She returned inside and sent a quick message to her mechanic, Wilson. Did Ezekiel call you to check the Mercedes? Minutes later, the reply came, “Nope. Haven’t heard from him in weeks.” Bernice stared at her phone. “Why would Ezekiel lie about something so small, unless it wasn’t small at all?” That night, as he watched television in the living room, she asked gently, “Did Wilson check the car yet?” “Ezekiel didn’t flinch. He’ll come Monday.” Bernice smiled faintly and replied, “Let me know when.
• I’d like to ask about something I noticed. The room fell quiet. He didn’t answer, but in that silence, her doubts began forming sharper edges. It was on a rainy Tuesday evening, while organizing the laundry in their walk-in closet that Bernice discovered the envelope tucked between Ezekiel’s suit pockets. At first glance, it looked like another business receipt. But when she slid the paper out, her fingers froze.
• Two flight tickets to Greece, first class. departure in three weeks. Her name wasn’t on either. The passengers were listed as Ezekiel Montgomery and Gloria Enm. A wave of nausea rolled over her and she sat on the edge of the bed, gripping the paper like a wound.
• She had imagined cheating, suspected emotional distance, even lied to herself in hope, but booking a romantic escape under her nose. That wasn’t distance. That was betrayal carved into itinerary paper. She took a photo of the tickets, placed them back precisely where she found them, and walked to the balcony, steadying her breath beneath the drizzle. When Ezekiel returned home that night, drenched and irritable, Bernice greeted him with a calmness that masked the storm inside her. “Rough weather?” she asked, pouring him a glass of water. He nodded.
• Traffic was hell. She watched him sip. “You know,” she said slowly. “I’ve never been to Greece. They say the islands are breathtaking. He paused midsip eyes flickering. Yeah, he said flatly. We should go someday, she added, her tone light, but her gaze sharp. Maybe next month, he cleared his throat. Works packed. Not sure I can travel for a while. Bernice smiled. Right. You’re always so busy.
• After he left the room, she opened her notebook again, scribbling quickly. Two tickets. Greece. Departure in 3 weeks. Not with me. The ink bled slightly where her hand trembled. She knew now it wasn’t just emotional withdrawal. Ezekiel was plotting a future that didn’t include her. Sleep had become an elusive guest.
• Every time Bernice closed her eyes, she was met with visions of falling, crashing, burning. The dreams were vivid, breaks failing, wheels spinning, glass shattering. She would wake gasping, soaked in sweat, reaching for a man who no longer held her at night. She started keeping a journal beside her bed to docume