When Jane’s husband, Patrick, begins to pay more attention to his phone than to her, she suspects him of infidelity.

Then things become heated when she discovers a mystery ring under his car seat.Recently, everything about my husband looked strange. Patrick, who had before been an open book to me, had become a mystery. He changed from not caring about his phone when we were together to being obsessed with it, guarding it like it was a valuable secret.
I’ve been eating alone most nights because Patrick has been cooped up in our study, pretending to work while muttering on the phone. “What’s going on, Patrick?” I questioned him after going through the same cold routine for two weeks. “Work is demanding, Jane,” he stated, keeping eye contact. “It’s going to settle down soon, I promise.”
Patrick usually sits down with me to discuss his work, but instead he retreats to his study with a mug of coffee. It wasn’t simply the distance between us; it was the silence and unspoken words that permeated our home. A few days later, Patrick informed me I could use his car for work.

“Use mine, darling,” he answered when I noted that stopping at the petrol station would make me late for work. “I filled it up last night.” I got into Patrick’s car, inhaling the familiar aroma of his cologne combined with the old leather seats. While adjusting the driver’s seat, I discovered it—a lovely ring hidden behind the seat in a velvet box.
It wasn’t mine, that was obvious. But it was extremely lovely, with a familiar feel to it. My heart sank as I saw the intricate design and how it shimmered in the light.Whose ring was this? I started the car and drove to work, while questions began to pour in.
Was there anyone else? Had Patrick’s late nights and guarded phone been intended for another woman? Who was on the other end of his whispered calls? I strolled inside my office, feeling the weight of Patrick’s possible infidelity on me. Patrick informed me that my 30th birthday was approaching, and he had huge plans for it.
But what if he won’t be around long enough to rejoice with me? What if he leaves me for someone else? In a moment of rage—or possibly desperation, or even vengeance—I devised a scheme. If this ring belonged to or was intended for the other lady in Patrick’s life, I wished she could suffer a fraction of the sorrow I was experiencing.
