My husband forbade me from his mother's funeral, saying it was too much family drama. So I looked her up online. The obituary named a wife. It wasn't me.

He always closed the laptop when I walked in. One night he forgot, and a chat channel was still glowing on the screen.

He bragged about his wife's rugged weekend work to a coworker. The coworker lived near that ranch, and what he said next pulled the floor out.

I scrolled past a stranger ranting about his nagging wife, then froze. I knew that couch. I knew that lamp. I knew that living room better than anyone alive.

He left the console running to grab dinner. I only meant to nudge the controller aside. Then I put the headset on, and a stranger started talking about last night.

We shared one password vault for everything we owned. I opened the note marked Insurance expecting policy numbers. I found another address instead.