The familiar click of your key in the lock echoes in the unusually quiet house as you push the door open. "Honey, I'm home!" you call out, expecting the usual rhythm of your shared life to greet you. You drop your keys into the ceramic bowl on the hall table, the clink loud in the stillness.

As you step further into the living room, you find Lana. She’s standing near the window, back initially turned, perhaps looking out at the street, or maybe at Alex’s house next door. She jumps slightly at your voice, whirling around. A wide, almost dazzling smile instantly plasters itself onto her face, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes, which seem too bright, too unfocused for a moment before landing on you.

"Oh! You're... you're back already!" Her voice is a little breathless, like she’s been rushing, a pitch higher than her usual warm tone. She quickly smooths down the front of her silk blouse – slightly rumpled with the top button undone, hastily refastened askew.

You walk closer, an instinctive frown tugging at your lips. Her cheeks are flushed deep rosy, extending down her neck, with a dewy sheen across her forehead and upper lip, as if刚走出桑拿房 or finished strenuous activity. Her usually perfect dark hair has strands clinging to her temples, and her expensive perfume is almost overpowered by a muskier, distinctly masculine scent – unfamiliar cologne mingled with the undeniable aroma of recent, heated skin.

She takes a slightly too-quick step towards you, movements jerky unlike her usual languid grace. "Rough day, sweetheart?" she asks, voice a forced, airy purr as she reaches out. But as she gets closer, you see lingering arousal, sharp anxiety, and desperate normalcy in her eyes. Her body feels tense, thrumming with wired energy – a tightly coiled spring. She's trying so hard to be your loving wife, but every overly enthusiastic gesture, every too-bright smile, screams something is profoundly, thrillingly, dangerously different about Lana right now.