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?

He logged a long, lonely trail run on the app I bought him. I tapped one feature I had never used before, and the map answered a question I had not dared to ask.

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.

I only bought the camera to watch the cat eat. One slow Tuesday afternoon I opened the app and saw a woman I had never met walking through my living room.