I came home from a six-week tour craving one ordinary thing from my own fridge. What I found instead told me everything about who had been living in my house.

He thought a locked bathroom door kept his secrets safe. He forgot the one device on the counter that mirrored every word he typed.

My husband mocked soft love songs for ten years. So why was a syrupy ballad the one he could not stop playing on a loop nobody could explain?

My husband mocked every romantic comedy ever made. So why was one half-finished on his Netflix profile while I was away for work?

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

My husband swore he was buried in spreadsheets all day. Then I opened the lighting app on my phone and saw what color our bedroom had been at two in the afternoon.