Yesterday morning in our kitchen, my husband pushed his coffee aside. "I hired a private investigator last month," he said, his voice flat. My hand locked, the silver butter knife hovering over the cold toast. "Why?" He didn't blink, sliding a thick manila envelope across the smooth marble counter. "Because you turned your phone screen down every time I walked into the bedroom. The photos from the Hilton are inside." Right then, I knew our ten-year marriage was completely over. I sat there frozen, watching the yellow butter melt into the burnt crust while we silently stared at each other.
Elowen Dovren is an emerging writer whose work spans multiple genres. Her work has been featured on prominent digital platforms like Substack and Medium. Instagram: @elowendovren.writes