While getting my car washed, the auto detailer gave me a pack of cigarettes.

I said I had quit smoking and thanked him.

He replied that he found them under the seat.

I froze; I had never lent my car to anyone.

Oh, wait, no, a couple of days ago, when I was away on a business trip, my wife Abigail drove this car.

01

The cigarettes were a brand called Bloom, which none of my friends smoke, so it definitely wasn’t someone from my circle.

I took one out and sniffed it; it was still fresh and not damp, so it shouldn’t have been there for more than a week.

Considering the timeline, it must have been during the days I was away.

Holding the cigarettes, my heart skipped a beat.

Could it be that while I was away, a man drove my car? But I quickly chided myself for overthinking it.

So what if someone else drove it? I was being paranoid.

My wife isn’t a good driver anyway, so she probably just got a colleague to drive her, which would actually be safer.

After dinner, I joked with my wife, “Abigail, did you secretly find a man to drive my car?”

My wife, facing away from me as she changed clothes, suddenly turned around and stared at me intently.

I laughed and threw the cigarettes from my pocket onto the table.

“The auto detailer found them.”

“Oh, oh, it’s our manager Alex, you’ve met him before.

I couldn’t park well, so I asked him to help.”

“I’ll return them to him tomorrow.” My wife quickly put the cigarettes in her bag and then went downstairs to jog.

Watching her retreating figure from the balcony, I fell into deep thought.

I had seen Alex before, but I remembered he smoked other brand, and besides, as a mid-level company employee, who would smoke a twenty-something-dollars cigarette?

These details were only known to smokers; my wife wouldn’t understand.

Suddenly, I felt that something was off.

Even if she had asked someone to help with driving, it wasn’t a big deal.

Why did she lie to me?

Thinking it through, I decided to check the car’s inner camera footage to see what was going on, rather than just speculating.

However, when I opened the dashcam’s memory, all the recordings were there except for the days I was away.

If I hadn’t intentionally checked, an ordinary person wouldn’t have noticed this issue, and the gap would have been covered up in a few days.

It dawned on me that she deliberately removed the memory card during those days.

So, one thing was certain: my wife was hiding something from me.

02

I first ruled out the possibility that Abigail lent the car to someone else; her family has their own cars, so they wouldn’t need to use mine.

Besides, if she really lent it to someone, there would be no reason to hide it from me.

I’m not that kind of petty person.

Apart from not wanting me to meet the driver or hear their conversation, I couldn’t think of any other reason for her to remove the memory card.

The most pressing matter now was to locate that man.

I considered that Abigail might have removed the memory card throughout, so it was likely that the man drove the car mostly during those days.

Her workplace isn’t close to home, so if the man drove my car, he would inevitably drop Abigail off.

We don’t have a designated parking spot, so I couldn’t pinpoint a surveillance camera.

Moreover, I wasn’t sure about the time, but every time the car entered or left the neighborhood, the gate guard would have a record.

Determined, I bought a good pack of cigarettes and headed straight for the property management’s surveillance room.

Damn, I’ve been quitting smoking for over a year, and now it’s ruined.

Since it was already evening, only one person was on duty in the monitoring room, and it happened to be my somewhat familiar hometown friend, Jacob, which made things much easier.

I knocked on the door.

Jacob was watching a short video on his phone and hastily put it away when he saw me.

“Bro, what brings you here?” I smiled and patted his shoulder.

“Caught you using your phone during work, huh?”

Jacob looked a bit embarrassed.

Before he could speak, I handed him a cigarette.

“Jacob, I need your help with something.

A couple of days ago, I found some scratches on the back of my car, probably from the parking barrier, but I’m not sure if it was Monday or Tuesday.

Can you check the surveillance footage for me?”

“Bro, come on, wouldn’t a barrier damage the car? It’s unlikely it happened in the neighborhood,” Jacob said hesitantly, and I knew he was afraid of getting involved.

If I pursued compensation from the property management, he’d be in trouble for showing me the footage.

“I’m not sure, that’s why I’m checking.

Don’t worry, brother, I’ve already filed an insurance claim.

It won’t affect you guys at all.

Just a heads-up, the insurance company is stubborn and insists on having surveillance photos.

I’ll take a random picture that looks similar and fool them later,” I assured him.

Jacob’s expression eased.

Seizing the opportunity, I slipped him a hundred dollars.

“Help me out.

My car’s been like that for a while, and this is a chance to get it fixed without spending money, right?”

Jacob accepted the money and naturally became more polite.

He didn’t know much about insurance, so he just said, “Don’t tell anyone, okay?” Then, he turned to help me retrieve the footage from the previous days.

On those days, my car entered the neighborhood around 6:10 pm.

Jacob showed me the wide-angle shots from the entrance camera to take for the insurance company.

I took two pictures with my phone and then tossed another cigarette to Jacob before saying goodbye with a smile.

As soon as I stepped out of the surveillance room, my face turned grim.

In the photos, it was clear that a man was driving, with Abigail in the passenger seat.

They arrived home about 20 minutes later than when I usually picked up Abigail, meaning that those 20 minutes could have been either her picking him up or him picking her up.

Due to the angle of the cameras, the man’s face wasn’t clear, so Jacob assumed it was me.

But the man’s hand clearly reached across the dashboard and landed on Abigail’s lap.

Alarm bells went off in my head; it seemed my wife, Abigail, truly had a problem.

03

With their entry time into the neighborhood, I could have swiftly accessed the surveillance footage downstairs.

However, I didn’t.

For one, people have pride, just like trees have bark, and Zhang still thought that person was me.

I didn’t want the whole neighborhood to know there was something wrong with my wife.

Secondly, the clothes the man wore vaguely rang a bell.

After smoking nearly half a pack of cigarettes downstairs, I still couldn’t make up my mind.

What was their relationship? Or, more bluntly, how far had it gone? After all, we were still married, and even if we were to separate, dignity was another matter.

Looking up at the balcony, I wondered how much longer I could stay in this home.

Suddenly, my eyes lit up.

Abigail’s exercise outfit was hanging there, reversible, and matched the color and style of the man’s clothes.

Could he be the person she ran with every day?

I promptly opened my phone and scrolled through Abigail’s IG.

She didn’t post much, and there were no restrictions on old posts.

I remembered her sharing a group photo of regular running partners.

After a few pages, I found it.

In the picture were five people—three men and two women.

Abigail and another woman were crouching in front, while the first man from the left, right behind Abigail, bore a striking resemblance to the driver from the surveillance footage.

He wasn’t tall, but he had a good build, clearly someone who exercised regularly.

His baby-faced appearance was exactly the type women nowadays favored.

The photo was taken over a year and a half ago, before we got married.

If it was him…

I dared not continue the thought.

To clarify the situation, I decided to suppress the urge to confront her and wait for the right moment.

I acted as if nothing had happened, even asking Abigail for intimacy that night.

She said she was too tired and suggested we do it another day.

I chuckled inwardly.

A few days later, when I figured she had forgotten about the cigarette box incident, I took her shopping on the weekend.

At a sports store, I pretended to try on a few pairs of shoes and inquired about discounts for bulk purchases.

The salesperson eagerly consulted the manager and offered several styles with discounts, even providing her email and phone number for further discussion.

Abigail overheard our conversation.

She asked, “Why do you need so many shoes?” I replied, “Long story. The boss suddenly wants to promote marathon culture and organize team building.”

Seeing her interest pique, I seized the opportunity.

“By the way, the company needs a regular runner as a coach, once a week, flexible hours, good pay.

Do you know anyone suitable?”

Abigail perked up.

“Can’t I do it?” I looked at her, pretending to hesitate.

” It would be best if it were a man, since there are more men in the company, you know.

And given our relationship, it wouldn’t be appropriate for you to charge, and you’d feel awkward not charging.” She agreed.

“That makes sense.” “Do you know any male runners in your group?”

She pondered.

“There are some.I’ll ask around.”

The next day, after her run, she asked about the coaching job.

I told her it would be best if I talked to the person first, discussing details and trying to secure a higher payment.

She agreed and arranged to meet me the following day.

I knew she had taken the bait.

If I hadn’t mentioned the high payment, she might have been suspicious or wouldn’t have brought me along to meet her running partner.

If I had followed her, I might not have gained any information or even made things worse.

Abigail’s family background wasn’t well-off, so her tendency to take advantage of situations was understandable.

By mentioning the generous compensation, I knew she wouldn’t let the money go to waste.

The next day, Abigail led me to their usual running spot, where a man was already waiting.

I recognized him immediately as the man from her IG.

Meeting him in person confirmed that he was the one driving my car and picking up Abigail a few days ago.

He greeted me warmly and added me on Facebook, introducing himself as Tim, a physical education teacher at a primary school in the western part of the city.

I responded, “Great, with your credentials, I’ll definitely request a higher payment for you.” Abigail beamed proudly, making me feel nauseous.

Tim happily offered me a cigarette, which turned out to be the same brand as the one found in my car.

My pupils constricted.

The distance from his school to Abigail’s workplace was roughly 20 minutes.

All the clues lined up.

04

As we ran together, I discreetly observed their interaction.

Tim seemed to show off, alternating between sprints and stretches.

Abigail, on the other hand, maintained a deliberate distance, remaining silent behind me.

These two put on quite a show, but they’re too inexperienced.

Damn it, you even introduced business to him and still claim you’re not close? A truly unbothered person wouldn’t be so distant.

Someone truly at ease wouldn’t act so standoffish.

I caught Tim pretending to stretch his body while his gaze went past me and landed on Abigail.

That look, all guys get it—it’s the feeling of having completely defeated you but still wanting to play along, pretending to be harmless.

Disdain, mockery, laced with barely hidden smugness.

An inexplicable surge of anger rose within me, but I didn’t see how Abigail responded.

Damn, these shameless lovebirds.

I made an excuse about not being able to run anymore and went back first.

As for Abigail, honest to God, I still hold out a sliver of hope.

If she’s got any conscience left and sticks to her last line of defense, after all these years as husband and wife, I don’t want her to end up looking too bad.

So it ain’t time to confront them yet.

After leaving, I went to see a friend of mine, Steve, instead.

This guy comes from money but spends his days messing around with trendy gadgets with a group of young friends.

But he’s got a good character, well-liked, and knows his way around plenty of stuff.

I gave him Tim’s info, showed him the Facebook messages, and asked him to help me investigate this person.

Steve teased me, asking what was going on and why I had suddenly become interested in men.

We grew up together, so there was nothing to be embarrassed about, so I told him the whole story.

I told him to hold off and not give anything away.

I hadn’t figured out the specifics yet.

Once I had investigated everything, I’d make sure he paid double for what he had done.

He agreed, saying he would find out everything about that pretty boy and settle the score later.

Before I left, Steve called me back and handed me a USB drive.

“One of my little buddies just came up with this. It can decrypt and copy information from a phone. I thought it wasn’t very useful, but it seems like it was meant for you.”

I gave a bitter smile; all the good luck in my marriage was being used up catching cheaters.

When I got home, Abigail was already back.

She asked me where I’d been.

I told her the truth, that I’d gone to see Steve.

She knew about my rich second-generation friend, but I said that Steve had recently invested in a new project and made a lot of money, so I went to see if there was a chance for me to invest as well.

“How did it go? Any chance?”

Her eyes lit up at the mention of money. “It should be fine. With our friendship, he said he’ll wait until next month when they need additional investment. Then he’ll let me know the specifics.”

“My husband is amazing.”

Abigail was delighted and kissed me on the cheek.

Maybe she felt good things come in pairs today and wanted to celebrate, so she seductively stripped her outerwear in front of me and provocatively headed into the bathroom, hinting that I could join her later.

I felt a wave of disgust and said that I had something to do tonight and needed to look over some information from Steve, telling her to go to sleep first before heading into the study.

On the computer, I opened the software Steve had given me.

While Abigail was still in the shower, I connected her phone to the computer.

In less than ten minutes, all the content from her phone was copied onto my computer.

After returning her phone to its original place and going back to the study, I took a deep breath.

Even though I’d mentally prepared myself, actually seeing the most gruesome scene still made me feel uneasy.

I typed Tim’s username into Abigail’s WeChat contacts and hit enter. His profile pic popped up, and my hands shook slightly.

I clicked, but there were only a few messages. Hmm? What’s going on? I scrolled through, and there were no more than twenty messages, all related to running.

The earliest one was from over a year ago, and the latest was from two months ago.

Did I get it wrong? Are they really innocent?

I was confused.

05

But I quickly realized something was off.

Since he arranged for me to meet Tim, it’s only human nature that they would have communicated beforehand.

But there was no contact between them for two months.

She might have deleted the chat history, or there’s another number she uses to contact him.

I thought about it carefully.

If she deleted the chat history, it wouldn’t make much sense.

I don’t know her phone password, and I’ve never checked her phone.

And if someone wanted to delete it, they’d either delete everything or leave some insignificant messages to mislead.

So, there’s a 90% chance she has another number to contact Tim.

That makes the situation even more alarming.

I must find her other number.

At that moment, the screen of an old iPad on the desk lit up, probably reminding me of an app update.

My eyes lit up.

This iPad belonged to Abigail; it was outdated and only used as a clock now.

But its Apple ID was her old one, an unused email address.

I immediately checked that email address and managed to trace back to a phone number linked to it.

It was indeed Abigail’s old number.

I typed that number into Facebook’s “Add Friends” section, and sure enough, a profile popped up.

In one glance, my head spun.

The profile picture on that account was also a pair of hands holding each other, just like Tim’s.

Tim’s Facebook nickname was ‘Mr. T,’ while this smaller account was named ‘Miss A.’ No wonder when I added Tim, I noticed a fleeting awkwardness on Abigail’s face.

It turned out that the hands in Tim’s profile picture were holding my wife’s.

And that wasn’t the most shocking part.

Abigail probably assumed I’d never find this account, so she didn’t set any restrictions.

Even without being her friend, I could see her ten most recent posts.

Scrolling through the first one, I completely gave up on any remaining illusions.

It was a photo of two feet, big and small, sticking out from under a blanket, timestamped during the days I was away on business.

The caption read, “With you, it’s warmth.” The background was instantly recognizable – our adjacent bedroom’s bed.

I almost vomited, my blood boiling.

I barely managed to stop myself from rushing over to slap her.

Damn it, I worked hard outside, and you two were plotting against me at home.

Flipping through more of her posts, they were all about their romantic entanglements.

They had definitely been sleeping together before.

Gradually, I calmed down.

I had already prepared for the worst; it was just a bit overwhelming to witness it firsthand.

I lit a cigarette in the study to compose myself.

Soon, Abigail came over.

“Honey, aren’t you quitting smoking?” At that moment, I admired my acting skills.

“Steve’s project is really profitable, but the investment is huge.

I need to think it through, so a smoke helps clear my mind.” Abigail responded, half-jokingly, “Then take care of yourself.”

“Don’t worry, go to sleep. I’ll keep calculating.” Seeing her turn away, I made up my mind.

Since you started this, don’t blame me for finishing it.

06

The next afternoon, I visited Steve again.

He said he had some leads.

“Brother, I don’t know if I should say this, but your green hat might’ve been on for quite some time.”

“Say it anyway.” I lit a cigarette, and Steve looked at me in surprise.

“Your mental strength is impressive. Your brain isn’t damaged, is it?”

I showed him Abigail’s secret account. “Found it last night.I’m done hoping, and I’ve come to terms with it.

Now, I’m just thinking about how to destroy those two.”

“Tsk tsk tsk, what a damn lowlife.” Steve flipped through the phone and returned it to me.

“Well, I won’t hold back then. Your wife and this handsome young man have been an item for at least five years.”

 Steve told me that Tim was Abigail’s high school classmate, and they probably got together in college, breaking up and making up multiple times.

After graduation, they even lived together for a while and discussed marriage.

But both families weren’t well-off.

Tim graduated from a low-tier sports university and couldn’t find a decent job.

He was still just a contract teacher at the school.

Abigail’s family felt that Tim couldn’t afford a house, while Tim’s family criticized Abigail for not being able to help with household chores or support their son.

Not long after we got married, Abigail, drunk from a work event, called Tim late at night, confessing she still missed him.

They resumed their affair and have been secretly seeing each other since.

Steve said he heard all this from a business partner who was Tim’s old classmate.

Their story had come to light among their classmates.

Seeing that I had truly let go, Steve revealed the final bombshell.

According to that person, Tim once bragged while drunk that Abigail had had an abortion for him.

By then, I felt numb inside.

I was more concerned that Steve’s inquiries might alert them.

Steve assured me not to worry.

He claimed to have approached the matter by saying a friend was interested in Tim and wanted to check his character.

His classmate’s final assessment of Tim was that he used all his brains on women.

Right then, Tim sent me a Facebook message, asking if I was busy and when we could run together again.

I knew he was subtly reminding me about the previous matter.

It seemed his classmate’s evaluation of him was inaccurate.

Not only did he use his brains on women, but he was also greedy.

Since he enjoyed these two things so much, I decided to give him a ‘gift.’ I asked Steve, “Do you have a friend who’s a master at playing with relationships with men?”

Steve was momentarily stunned, then quickly grasped my intention.

“Damn, you’re too cunning.” He promptly found a girl named Lily, around thirty, with a very beautiful face – someone who clearly knew how to handle these situations.

It was rumored that she received so many flowers during holidays that they filled an entire trunk, but she never crossed the line, earning only from selling houses and insurance.

I briefly outlined the situation to Lily, telling her to maintain her good image and not to rush into anything.

I promised to cover any expenses, with the final large sum going to her.

Then, I started laying a trap for Tim.

First, I informed him that due to the boss’s absence, the running sessions were on hold, leaving him a bit disheartened.

He replied with a simple “Oh.” But then I shared that when the company had initially promoted the idea, a client’s boss had expressed interest in a running coach and had asked me to inquire.

Tim immediately regained his enthusiasm.

“Sure, Brother.” So, I scheduled a time and place for them, emphasizing that this boss was a strong woman with high standards, urging him to arrive punctually.

He was even more excited now.

“Thanks, Brother.

I won’t let you down.” That night, Steve specially drove his BMW 740 to act as a chauffeur, taking Lily to their meeting spot.

Tim had been eagerly waiting there.

Since I was concerned about Tim’s performance, I didn’t show up and just told them to chat on their own.

Steve later told me that when Lily stepped out of the car, she was not only beautiful but also wore a tight sportswear outfit that accentuated her curves, instantly drawing everyone’s attention.

However, she remained cold to others but seemed captivated by Tim’s gentleness and generosity.

Tim, probably never having experienced such a boost to his ego, was completely smitten with a few playful gestures from Lily.

In the end, Lily offered to pay Tim, but he refused to accept the money, even arranging to meet again.

Compared to her, Abigail was simply insignificant.

Of course, Tim wouldn’t tell Abigail about Lily, especially since I wasn’t there; he would feel more at ease.

I asked Lily to bide her time while I laid the groundwork for the other trap.