The hands of the marble wall clock in the family room pointed to midnight. The vast room felt suffocatingly quiet, accompanied only by the slow, heavy ticking of the clock—as though mocking Aileen’s rapidly eroding patience. On the dining table, a lavish meal that had once billowed with warm steam had now gone cold, a hardened layer of oil clinging to the surface of the ceramic plates. This was the countless time Aileen had spent her evening waiting for a husband who never seemed to come home.

Aileen stared at her own reflection in the expansive glass window. The city lights from outside cast the silhouette of a woman draped in silk sleepwear, her eyes heavy with profound exhaustion. Five years ago, she was the sole heiress of the Hartono family, sought after by every eligible bachelor in the capital. Yet, among the sharply dressed men who vied for her attention, her heart had chosen Rehan—a man with a gentle face, attentive manners, and an apparent devotion that seemed entirely unconditional.

"Do not choose that man, Aileen. His eyes are dishonest, and his ambition exceeds all bounds of reason," a cold, deep voice suddenly echoed in the recesses of Aileen's mind.

Aileen closed her eyes for a fleeting second, recalling the memory of Damian Baskara. That sharp-eyed man had been her late father's business partner, as well as the only person who had bluntly and fiercely opposed her marriage to Rehan. Back then, Aileen had foolishly mistaken Damian for an arrogant man merely envious of her happiness.

"You are simply blinded by his sweet words, Aileen. One day, you will weep over this foolish decision," Damian had said coldly during their final meeting at a formal banquet, right before he deliberately distanced himself and vanished from their social circle, utterly disgusted by Aileen's naive stubbornness.

Now, sitting in the dimly lit dining room, Aileen realized just how agonizingly accurate that warning had been. The marriage she had once prided on as a romantic fairy tale was nothing more than a gilded cage—a silent prison where her soul was slowly being extinguished.

The front door suddenly squeaked open, shattering Aileen’s reverie. Heavy footsteps echoed across the foyer floor. Aileen immediately stood up, greeting her husband with the familiar, gentle smile she always wore whenever Rehan returned late.

Rehan stepped inside, loosening his tie with a rough gesture. His handsome face looked tired, yet a flash of hidden satisfaction flickered in his eyes—one he quickly concealed the moment he saw Aileen standing before him.

"Rehan, you're just getting home? I've warmed up dinner three times..." Aileen's voice was soft, though it carried a slight tremor.

Rehan let out a long sigh, deliberately putting on an exaggerated expression of frustration. "Aileen, please, don't start again. I just came out of an exhausting board of directors meeting. The company's expansion project requires my absolute, undivided attention. If you keep acting this demanding, I honestly don't know how I'm supposed to find any peace in my own home."

A painful pang pierced Aileen's chest. That sentence. The exact same words Rehan had uttered last week, and the month before that. He always used work as a shield to justify the widening gulf between them.

"I'm not being demanding, Rehan. I just... missed you. We barely spend any time together anymore," Aileen murmured softly, stepping closer in an attempt to straighten her husband's jacket collar.

However, before Aileen's fingertips could brush against the fabric, Rehan instinctively stepped back, claiming he needed to grab his briefcase off the sofa. The avoidance was swift, yet it was more than enough for Aileen's sense of smell to catch something that sent an icy shiver straight through her veins.

The scent of women's perfume.

It wasn't the delicate rose fragrance Aileen wore, but a heavy, sweet jasmine aroma blended with an unfamiliar masculine musk. The scent clung stubbornly to Rehan's collar, as though someone had just held him in a tight, lingering embrace right before he left.

Aileen held her breath, her chest suddenly tightening under a suffocating wave of rage and heartbreak. "You smell like women's perfume, Rehan."

Rehan froze for a fraction of a second before breaking into a short, light laugh—an unconvincing, hollow sound. "You're overthinking things, Aileen. That must be perfume from a female colleague when I shook hands in the office lobby earlier. Don't start imagining things that aren't there. I'm exhausted and I'm going straight to bed."

Without waiting for Aileen's reply, Rehan turned on his heel and strode quickly up the stairs toward the master bedroom, leaving Aileen entirely alone on the ground floor.

Aileen stood frozen in place. Hot tears finally slipped past her lashes, falling one by one down her cheeks. For the first time in their five-year marriage, she had caught a fleeting trace of panic in Rehan's eyes when she mentioned the perfume. For years, she had been far too foolish, far too trusting in the belief that her pure love could transform Rehan into a loyal husband.

With heavy footsteps, Aileen followed him upstairs to tidy up Rehan's private study, which was usually left in a mess. He always tended to leave documents and personal items scattered across his desk.

Aileen began gathering financial reports belonging to her late father's company, which Rehan now managed. As she pulled on a stuck desk drawer, a small, dark object slipped out and clattered onto the thick carpet.

Aileen knelt down and picked it up.

It was a secondary smartphone—one she had never seen before. The screen suddenly flared to life in the darkened room, displaying a sharp incoming text message notification splashed across the home screen:

“Darling, what time can you break away from your boring wife? I’m waiting at our apartment. Don’t forget to bring the stock transfer documents we talked about last night.”

The sender's name glared back at her: Clara.

Aileen stared at the glowing screen, her breath hitching in her throat. The entire world around her suddenly spun violently. Rehan's sweet words, his warm embraces, his endless excuses of working late for the company—it all shattered in a single, agonizing second that pulverized her body and soul.