The soft glow of the nightlight cast long shadows across Ava’s crib as I tucked her in, her small chest rising and falling in the gentle rhythm of sleep. Finally, a moment to myself. I sank onto the sofa, phone in hand, mindlessly scrolling through the endless stream of TikTok videos.

Suddenly, a street fashion live broadcast flickered onto the screen, catching my eye. My posture straightened, a prickle of unease crawling up my spine. The host, quick as a flash, shifted the camera angle, but not before I saw it—a fleeting glimpse, a figure too familiar, entwined with another. My heart hammered against my ribs, a cold sweat breaking out on my palms. I checked the time, confirming the live broadcast was happening right here, in our city.

Without a second thought, I exited TikTok and dialed Matthew, my husband. He was supposed to be on a three-day business trip in Canta. The phone rang, a cruel, extended silence stretching between each ring, before he finally answered.