not stop now.
It is almost complete.’
Sonia shook her head.
‘I cannot continue.
I cannot keep doing this behind his back.’
My hand pressed against the wall.
Behind my back.
Musa unfolded the red cloth and dipped one corner into the dark bottle.
The smell reached me through the window, sharp and herbal, mixed with something like menthol and smoke.
He raised the cloth toward Sonia’s shoulder.
That was when I kicked the bedroom door open.
The sound shook the house.
Sonia screamed.
Musa stumbled backward so fast the bottle slipped from his hand and rolled under the bed.
For one frozen second, all three of us stared at one another.
Sonia’s face went pale.
Musa’s mouth opened, but no words came out.
I stood in the doorway with my son’s letter crushed in my fist.
‘What is going on here?’ I asked.
My voice did not sound like mine.
Sonia stood, trembling.
‘David, please listen to me.’
I laughed once, hard and empty.
‘Listen to you? My son had to write me a secret letter because he was afraid of you.
He said Musa comes into my bedroom to touch your body with a red cloth whenever I go to work.
And now I come home and find exactly that.’
Musa lowered his eyes.
That small movement made me angrier than any denial would have.
‘Look at me,’ I snapped.
He looked up slowly.
‘How long?’ I asked.
Sonia stepped forward.
‘David, it is not what you think.’
‘Then what is it?’ I shouted.
‘Tell me what kind of thing a wife hides in her bedroom with the gateman.
Tell me why my son is terrified.
Tell me why you said hurry before my husband comes back.’
Her lips parted, but nothing came out.
Silence filled the room.
That silence condemned her before any answer could.
I turned to Musa.
‘Pack your things and leave my house now.’
Musa swallowed.
‘Sir, please.
Madam only asked me to help her.’
‘Help her do what?’
He looked at Sonia.
She covered her face.
I took one step toward him.
‘Answer me.’
Musa’s voice broke.
‘There is a man, sir.’
My ears rang.
Sonia dropped her hands immediately.
‘Musa, don’t.’
I turned slowly to my wife.
A man.
It was as if the floor had moved beneath me.
For a moment, I thought I had reached the worst part, but betrayal is a staircase.
There is always another step waiting below.
Musa pointed toward the wardrobe with a shaking hand.
‘Madam said I should not talk.
She said it would destroy the family.’
I walked to the wardrobe.
Sonia rushed in front of me.
‘David, please.
Not like this.’
‘Move.’
‘Please.’
‘Move, Sonia.’
She stepped aside like her bones had disappeared.
I opened the wardrobe.
Clothes.
Shoes.
A box of old documents.
Nothing unusual.
Then I noticed the bottom drawer was not fully closed.
I pulled it open.
Inside was a black nylon bag tied tightly.
My fingers shook as I untied it.
The first thing I saw was money.
Bundles of cash wrapped in paper bands.
Under it were photographs.
Not romantic photographs.
Worse.
Photographs of Sonia standing outside a motel beside a man I recognized from the neighborhood council.
Mr.
Bernard.
A married man.
A man who shook my
