He swore he slept through the whole afternoon. His fitness tracker told a different story, minute by minute, while I made us dinner downstairs.

He swore he had left his missing earbud at the gym. The tracking map showed it lying perfectly still, three hours away, in a room with a fireplace.

All I wanted was to let the dog in before the frost set. What I saw through the glass kept me standing in the cold for ten minutes that ended my marriage.

He came home from the rescue smelling of someone else's home. The kibble in the trunk was the first thing that didn't fit.

He came home sunburned and bragging about his golf score. The next day his car taught me how to count the hours he was never on the course.

We turned our fitness rings into a silly little competition. I never imagined the data would tell me something he never would.