Soon, Mariam hooked her arm through Charlton’s and dragged him into the bedroom with a laughing, possessive air. Their murmurs rose, then fell into the rhythm of the bed, breathy and intimate. Steam from the pot blurred my vision as I stared at the bubbling food, but my expression did not shift. I felt like a block of stone.

When the sounds stopped, Mariam emerged in a bathrobe, satisfied, padding in slippers while casually tossing her hair. She lifted a bowl of soup, took a sip, and spat it back with disgust. “This is awful,” she sneered.

Charlton, however, picked up his chopsticks, tasted a bite, and froze for a moment. “This is…” he murmured, then bowed his head and ate, one mouthful after another. He polished off the entire table of food. I did not even twitch an eyelid.

Late at night, sleep settled over the house, and the steady rhythm of snores filled the rooms. I opened their bedroom door without a sound. Mariam slept deeply, and a tablet on the bedside glowed quietly. As my hand reached for the tablet, the corner of my eye caught the trash bin.

Several used condoms had been balled up and tossed inside.

A sharp pain stabbed my chest, as if someone had driven a needle into me. I did not linger. My fingers moved quickly, copying the surveillance videos from the tablet one by one.

When I finished, I packed the divorce papers and my son’s keepsakes carefully into my bag. I did not look back. I did not linger. I slipped out of the villa that had once been ours. The night wind was bone-cold, but my mind had never been clearer.

At the street corner, I pulled out my phone and sent the copied videos to Alan in one hurried burst. My fingers trembled as I hit send.

[Evidence found. I have witnesses.]

[Prepare for court, Atty.]

At that moment, Charlton and Mariam were sleeping soundly, unaware that earlier at our son’s tomb, I had replayed the video she had planted over and over until I was certain it proved she had intentionally swapped the infusion. They did not know it had taken me four years to master the glioblastoma surgery. Even if the hospital doctors understood the theory, it would take them a long time before they could perform it in practice.

When Alan replied, I allowed myself my first quiet, easing smile.

‘Mariam and Charlton, go to hell together!’