Noticing that after her mother-in-law’s visit to the cottage, the dog was growling at the garden beds, Emily, amidst her husband’s chuckles, decided to weed them. But digging deeper, she froze in shock at what she uncovered… 

The faint sound of the TV carried over, followed by footsteps, and finally James appeared in the garden, frowning.
“What’s up? You know I’m at the best part of the movie,” he grumbled.
“Max is acting strange, growling and digging at the patch. Look, maybe there’s something there,” Emily explained.
James smirked at the patch, then at Max, who continued growling.
“Probably just a worm or something. Don’t waste time on nonsense. I’m going back to my movie.”

Ignoring the dog, James returned inside. Emily stayed, sensing something was off.

Max never acted without reason.
“Alright, let’s see what you’ve got,” Emily said, grabbing a garden trowel. Max wagged his tail, as if approving.

She carefully dug, avoiding the strawberry plants. The soil was soft and loose. Soon, she hit something hard.

Emily brushed away the dirt and found a small metal box.
“Whoa!” she exclaimed, lifting and examining it.

The box was sturdy, with two latches on the sides.
“What’s inside?” she wondered. She tried opening it, but the latches were stuck, likely clogged with dirt. Emily decided to wait until James was asleep. She hid the box in the shed under an old rag.

Back home, she found James engrossed in a phone chat, barely noticing her absence.
“So, what was it?” he asked, eyes on his screen. “Did that mutt find us a treasure?”
“Nothing special, just playing around,” Emily replied, choosing not to share her discovery yet.
“Told you,” James muttered, returning to his phone.
Emily sat beside him, but her mind was on the hidden box. What was in it? Who hid it? Why did Max zero in on that spot? When James fell asleep, she quietly left the bedroom, grabbed a flashlight and screwdriver, and headed to the shed. She retrieved the box and sat on an old stool.

Under the flashlight’s beam, she worked on the latch. After some effort, it gave way. The box opened.

Inside was a small disc, wrapped in plastic, with no labels or markings.
“A video recording?” Emily whispered, puzzled. “Who hid this here?”
She took it inside. James was snoring in the bedroom. Emily went to the living room, powered up her old work laptop, and inserted the disc.

A menu appeared with one option: play. Emily clicked it.

The screen showed a parking lot by an apartment building at dusk, lit by dim streetlights. The camera seemed hidden, likely in a window. Emily frowned.

A surveillance video? What was she supposed to see? A man appeared—tall, imposing, in a dark coat.
“James!”
Emily recognized her husband’s gait and silhouette.

Her heart sank. What was he doing there? Why wasn’t he home? James stopped by a black car. A woman stepped out—tall, slender, with long blonde hair. Her face wasn’t visible. James approached and hugged her shoulders.

Emily held her breath.
“A friendly hug, or something more?” The woman said something. James replied.

They laughed. Then James leaned in and kissed her. Kissed her.

Tenderly, passionately, as if he loved her more than life. Emily’s world shattered. Everything she believed in crumbled.

Tears streamed down her face, burning her cheeks. She stared at the screen, disbelieving. Was this a dream? Would she wake up beside James?

No miracle came. Reality hit hard. The man kissing another woman was her husband, the man she loved with all her heart.

The video ended. The screen went dark. Silence filled the room.

Emily sat frozen, unable to think, speak, or feel. One thought echoed: he betrayed me.

Time blurred. Eventually, she shut the laptop and returned the disc to the box.

In the bedroom, she lay beside James, eyes closed, but sleep wouldn’t come.

The video replayed in her mind, each kiss a stab of pain.
“How could he do this?” she whispered, choking back tears. She decided to stay silent for now, needing time to process and decide.

The next morning, Emily woke with a heavy head and a broken heart. She barely slept, tossing and turning, weighing her options. The alarm forced her up…

A new week, Monday, meant getting ready for work at the school. James was already up, sipping coffee and reading the paper, looking calm, as if nothing had happened.

Emily glanced at him with sadness and disgust. How could he act so normal?
“Morning,” he said, eyes on the paper.
“Morning,” she replied curtly, hiding her emotions…