After six months away on a work assignment, I came home to find my pet hamster dead.
I couldn’t just bury it. I decided to preserve it, make a specimen so it would always keep its cute, round shape.
But as I carefully began the dissection, I froze.
The hamster’s lungs were completely black.
That wasn’t a short-term discoloration; it was the result of prolonged exposure to secondhand smoke.
But my wife and I never smoked.
For the past six months, who had been living in my home?
1
I didn’t *want* to suspect my wife, Lily Evans.
I knew that trust was the bedrock of any marriage.
That’s why we never installed surveillance cameras, and we certainly never checked each other’s phones.
But perhaps I’d overestimated people.
I scoured every corner of the room, finding no trace of smoking.
No lighters, no ashtrays, nothing.
Was I wrong about her?
Was the hamster just sick?
But then, my gaze fell on the wallpaper.
I remembered it clearly: behind the sofa, there was a small ballpoint pen mark where I’d accidentally scuffed it.
Now, it was gone.
The wallpaper had been replaced.
*That’s it!* If someone had been smoking in the room for an extended period, the wallpaper would undoubtedly be yellowed.
Lily had thought of that and replaced it before I returned.
I called her.
She answered quickly, her voice sweet and gentle:
“Honey, what’s up?”
“Why was the wallpaper in the living room changed?”
I tried to sound casual.
“Oh, that.”
She chuckled.
“New wallpaper, new mood, you know? You’ve been gone for six months; the house needed a fresh look.”
Her tone was perfectly natural, utterly devoid of guilt.
“Oh, right, I booked a table at your favorite restaurant for tonight to welcome you home. Make sure you dress to impress!”
I hung up, my mind reeling. After much thought, I posted on a relationship advice forum:
**[Away for six months, came home to find my hamster dead, lungs totally black. My wife and I don’t smoke. Should I suspect her of cheating?]**
Replies flooded in almost immediately:
**[Bro, is this even a question? 90% chance she’s seeing someone else.]**
**[Look for details, any extra men’s items?]**
**[Useless. I’m a woman, and I’m cheating right now. Those clues would be long gone, you think I’d leave them for you to find?]**
**[Whoa, TMI, lady! We don’t need *that* level of honesty!]**
**[Listen to me: slip the building’s security guard a few hundred bucks and ask if anyone’s been coming and going from your place.]**
I stared at the replies, a cold dread washing over me.
Distracted, I changed for our evening date.
Lily had booked my favorite restaurant and, smiling, handed me a beautifully wrapped gift box.
I opened it. It was the mechanical watch I’d been wanting for ages.
She didn’t like spicy food, but she’d ordered a table full of fiery red dishes for me, constantly sipping water to douse the flames.
A pang of guilt struck me.
Maybe I was overthinking things.
Mid-meal, I couldn’t hold it in any longer and brought up the hamster:
“Our hamster died. Did you know?”
She nodded, her face falling into a sad expression.
She reached across the table, taking my hand to comfort me.
“I was going to tell you. It got sick a while ago. I took it to the vet, but they said it was too far gone. Don’t be sad, honey. We can always get another one.”
Her voice held no trace of panic.
Again, I wondered if I had wronged her.
After dinner, we walked out of the restaurant.
I reached for her hand, and she instinctively flinched back.
It was a slight movement, but I felt it distinctly.
I looked at her. She froze for two seconds before extending her hand again, clasping mine herself.
She smiled.
“You’ve been gone for six months, I’m just a little out of practice.”
I said nothing.
I remembered what one of the forum users had said.
He told me to initiate physical contact with my wife.
If she showed even a hint of physiological repulsion, there was a 99% chance she was cheating.
We walked hand-in-hand to the parking garage. By our parking spot, a young man was engrossed in his phone.
He looked up, surprised to see me, then immediately smiled and called out, “Good evening, Dr. Miller.”
I stopped.
It was Lucas Hayes, an intern from our hospital.
Lucas then nodded to Lily: “Good evening, Dr. Evans.”
Lily smiled back. “What a coincidence.”
Something felt off.
Lily and I were both doctors, but in different departments.
She worked in outpatient care, while Lucas rotated through inpatient services.
Logically, he shouldn’t know her.
They chatted casually. Lucas kept pushing up his glasses, revealing the Patek Philippe on his wrist.
I recognized it instantly.
It was *my* watch. Only ten like it existed in the world, each with its own engraved serial number.
2
I said nothing.
But I understood.
The kid was deliberately showing it to me.
I smiled, putting my arm around Lily’s shoulder.
“We should go.”
Once we were in the car, she chattered incessantly, telling me about her past six months.
My mind wasn’t in it.
I dropped her off at our front door but didn’t get out.
I just told her something came up at the hospital, and I had to go back, so she should head upstairs alone.
I returned to the hospital.
I knew my car had a GPS tracker. Lily, ever cautious, would have likely sensed my suspicion.
If I parked the car in the neighborhood, I wouldn’t catch anything.
I was gambling.
I remembered Lucas’s eyes earlier. I bet he was too smug, too impatient to wait.
Just past midnight, I pulled out my phone and sent a message to my mother, asking her to call Lily for a casual chat.
Ten minutes later, I dialed Lucas’s number.
“Dr. Miller? Is everything alright?”
His voice sounded surprised.
I heard muffled noises in the background – a fan, and a woman’s voice.
I recognized it. It was Lily.
Nothing more needed to be said.
It was just as the forum user warned: once the seed of suspicion is planted, every subsequent event only confirms its truth.
I immediately started digging.
First, bank statements, then PayPal and SnapChat transfer records.
Months of transactions, reviewed one by one.
No abnormalities.
No large transfers out, no unfamiliar accounts.
I checked our credit cards.
Also clean. All daily expenses, no extra spending or loans.
This was odd.
Cheating, but not moving assets?
Lily was incredibly materialistic.
She’d fought with me for ages about our shared marital assets when we first got together.
She was beautiful and had many suitors.
She chose me largely because of my financial stability and background.
Not touching our joint assets? That didn’t fit her style at all.
I continued my investigation and finally discovered that my research paper document had been tampered with.
It contained years of my accumulated core findings.
Unpublished experimental data and my unique surgical method.
If the surgery was successful, it would not only be the peak of my career but would also redefine industry standards.
Lily, of course, knew the importance of this paper.
Now, the modification time on the document had changed.
The file had been opened, and a full copy had been made.
I stared at the screen, my expression unreadable.
I knew what they were planning.
In two months, there would be a major public surgery, live-streamed internationally.
Lily intended to give my surgical method to Lucas, letting him achieve overnight fame in front of countless cameras and esteemed experts.
Then, they would completely cut me out.
*Excellent.*
This was far more ruthless than simply moving assets.
The next day at work, I saw Lily by the conference room door.
I noticed her clothes beneath her lab coat had been changed.
She was clever, using such a subtle detail to imply she’d been home last night.
As if to tell me I was imagining things.
I smiled, walked up to her, put my arm around her waist, and leaned in to kiss her.
She subtly recoiled.
“So many people around.”
As I leaned closer, I distinctly caught the scent of smoke.
*Got it.*
That afternoon, I was doing rounds with a few interns.
Lucas stood at the front. I casually asked a few case-related questions.
He answered thoroughly, even proactively suggesting two different treatment plans.
Dr. Peterson, who was with us, nodded approvingly:
“Excellent. Very promising.”
Lucas, seizing the opportune moment, meticulously explained a detail about post-operative care.
Dr. Peterson patted his shoulder:
“Keep up the good work. You’ll have a spot here one day.”
Dr. Peterson had never thought much of me.
He found me too temperamental, said I never played his games, never buttered him up or pandered to his ego.
But my competence was undeniable, so he couldn’t actually touch me.
I knew he’d been itching to replace me.
We reached the last patient room. Lying inside was my mother-in-law, Mrs. Evans.
Her chart above the bed read “Elective Surgery.”
Lily had insisted that I personally perform this surgery, saying she trusted no one else.
Elective, huh? I glanced at the highly praised Lucas.
Well, then, I’d choose a very special date for her surgery.
I returned to my office. A few minutes later, Lucas knocked.
“Dr. Miller, can I have a few minutes of your time?”
He entered, standing before my desk with a smile.
“Dr. Miller, Dr. Peterson said my performance was excellent. Could you fast-track my permanent position?”
I looked at him.
“Internship periods are fixed. You still need to pass the internal hospital assessment.”
He sneered.
“Sir, isn’t skill the most important thing?”
I stared at him.
“Skill is important, but a person needs to know their place.”
His smile widened.
“Positions are given by others, but they can also be taken.”
I leaned back in my chair, saying nothing.
He took a step forward, lowering his voice.
“Some opportunities, whoever seizes them first, wins.”
The air in the office grew heavy.
He stared straight at me, showing no sign of backing down.
I didn’t avert my gaze either.
A minute later, he smiled again and turned to leave.
3
A week later, there was a city-wide medical conference that Lily and I both had to attend.
I intentionally left early, pretending I’d forgotten my Patek Philippe, and asked her to bring it to me at the venue.
When I arrived, she very naturally handed me the watch.
I looked down, fastened it on, and said nothing.
The hall was crowded. Lucas was there too.
He was smiling and chatting with others, and on his wrist was that same watch, identical to mine.
I nudged Lily.
“Look, his watch is just like mine.”
She feigned surprise.
“Oh, my goodness, it really is! But it looks much better on you than on him.”
I didn’t respond, just glanced at her.
I’d already noticed. The watch on my wrist was fake.
She had given my real watch to Lucas and bought me a fake one.
She was treating me like an idiot.
The hospital director droned on from the stage. I lowered my head and scrolled through Ins.
Lucas had posted many updates.
A picture from three months ago showed a close-up of a wrist. The watch face was clear – my real watch.
The caption read: **[Thanks, sis, for the affirmation. You’ve given me a goal to strive for.]**
A photo from ten days ago showed a partial view of a dining table, with a slender hand picking up food.
I recognized that hand. It was Lily’s.
The caption: **[Wish time could just stop here.]**
Yesterday’s post was a back shot: a woman in a white coat, hair loose, brightly lit by the sun.
The caption: **[Waiting for sis to get off work.]**
I scrolled through them, one by one.
None of them were directly explicit, but every single one bore Lily’s undeniable mark.
Lucas was usually a social butterfly, with dozens of likes on his photos. But not on these.
Because he’d set up a private group – these posts were only visible to *me*.
He was doing this on purpose.
He was telling me: *Your watch is mine, and so is your wife.*
Someone at the conference called my name for a speech. I stood up and walked to the stage.
I saw Lucas turn his head to look at Lily. Their eyes met.
But I pretended not to see anything.
In the days that followed, I continued to live normally with Lily.
I kept writing my paper, and I silently watched them copy it.
Soon, the day of the surgery arrived.
That morning, I went to the garage to get my car as usual.
As soon as I started the engine, the tire pressure warning light came on.
The left rear tire had been punctured. All the air had leaked out.
I feigned panic and called Lily:
“Honey, what do I do? My tire’s flat!”
She paused for two seconds, then her voice became even more frantic than mine:
“Oh no! What are we going to do? Today’s surgery is so important, you won’t make it!”
“Well, someone else will just have to take over for you.”
Like someone pushed to despair, I said, “Then let someone else take over.”
I hailed a cab, but not long after we set off, the car was rear-ended.
*Heh.*
I sneered.
They were being incredibly thorough.
Ten minutes later, Lucas sent a message.
**[You’re finished.]**
I slowly typed back four words:
**[No, *you* are.]**
My divorce lawyer picked me up, and we drove straight to the hospital.
But I deliberately avoided the surgical area, letting them believe I was still stranded on the road, fixing my car.
I had already arranged for someone to give me real-time updates on their movements.
Lily was helping Lucas adjust his mask and gloves:
“This is a golden opportunity today. Do a great job.”
“When the time comes, just say you wrote that paper and Dr. Miller plagiarized you.”
“His surgical steps are written out clearly. There’ll be no problem!”
Lucas wrapped his arm around her neck and kissed her forehead forcefully.
The surgery began.
It was then that I unhurriedly walked to the entrance.
A few nurses were whispering at the door:
“Dr. Hayes is set this time. Dr. Peterson and Dr. Evans are really pushing for him.”
“With so many people watching, if this goes well, he’ll be famous.”
“It’s such a shame for Dr. Miller.”
Minutes ticked by.
Initially, he performed smoothly.
But twenty minutes later, panic broke out inside.
The monitor’s alarm blared suddenly.
A nurse shouted, “Patient is hemorrhaging heavily!”
Lucas’s voice was laced with panic:
“Pressure, more gauze… How do we stop the bleeding?”
Dr. Peterson snapped, “Replace him! Quick, replace him!”
Lily frantically interjected:
“Lucas is on the operating table for the first time! Replacing him now would crush his confidence!”
“Besides, the patient isn’t in critical condition, it’s just a little extra blood. If no one gives interns a chance, how will they ever grow?”
I chuckled softly.
“Are you sure?”
“Why don’t you check the patient’s name?”
Lily looked at the patient’s chart, and her face instantly turned ashen.
4
“Ryan… you… you have to save my mom!”
I pushed open the operating room door. Lucas, incredibly, still didn’t want to yield.
“I… I can still…”
I stepped behind him.
“Get out.”
I took his instruments, operating with swift precision, stabilizing the bleeding point.
The blood pressure gradually returned, and the steady beeping of the monitor resumed.
Two hours later, the surgery concluded perfectly.
—*That* was the difference.
Of course, I hadn’t told them that all of this was part of my plan.
The paper they stole was a deliberately altered, fake version.
The surgical steps seemed detailed, but in the method for handling blood vessels, I’d embedded a subtle trap.
Anyone who had performed this surgery before would immediately recognize that the technique there was incorrect.
But for an imposter, eager for quick success and lacking foundational knowledge, it was a heaven-sent shortcut.
The moment Lucas got his hands on that fake paper, I knew he would follow it without question.
After the surgery, Lily rushed up to me.
“How’s my mom?”
Actually, I had originally orchestrated this surgery to give my mother-in-law the opportunity for global attention.
But Lily, sensing something was wrong, had quietly swapped her mother with another patient.
She knew her little lover might not be able to handle such a high-pressure situation.
She couldn’t let anything happen to her mother.
I, without a change in expression, had swapped them back.
Let her own mother be Lucas’s guinea pig.
My mother-in-law had never given me a moment’s peace.
Right after we got married, she’d said in front of all our relatives:
“Lily is our family’s treasure. She’s never suffered a day in her life, so don’t expect her to take care of you. You’ll have to bear most of the burden.”
I bought a house, bought a car, and invited her entire family to live with us.
But once they moved in, she went around telling everyone that *her daughter* had bought the house.
She came to stay with us for what was supposed to be a week but ended up staying for three months.
Any milk or fruit I bought for the fridge, she’d say she didn’t like and pour it out.
But if something serious happened, I was always the first one she called.
Her brother lost hundreds of thousands in the stock market, and she called me at three in the morning asking for money.
Once she got the money, she started complaining that I kept too much personal savings, implying I was up to no good.
Even so, I never spoke ill of her to anyone.
For holidays, gifts were always plentiful. When her relatives needed medical care, I personally arranged the best rooms for them.
I had fulfilled my duties as a son-in-law.
And today, I had saved her life.
Back in my office, I pulled out a divorce agreement and placed it in front of Lily.
“Sign it.”
She froze for a second, then immediately forced a laugh.
“Honey, what’s wrong? Is there some misunderstanding?”
“You’re being silly. Lucas is just a colleague. Why are you imagining all this nonsense? You men are even more petty than us women.”
I said nothing, just stared at her.
“Why did the hamster die?” I asked.
She stiffened, frowning.
“Didn’t I tell you already? It got sick! Little animals have short lifespans anyway, and maybe you fed it too many treats and it overate.”
She refused to admit anything.
I knew, of course, that if I opened Lucas’s phone gallery right now, I’d find the evidence.
If I hadn’t set this trap today, he’d probably be basking in the glory of a successful surgery,
and perhaps even parading Lily around, bragging to me.
But I wasn’t in a hurry.
Presenting evidence now would only lead to her crying and begging for mercy.
I didn’t want mercy. I wanted her to be utterly incapable of recovering.
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