The man scrambled to pull up the duvet, his face a mask of pure, unadulterated terror. My wife didn’t scream; she just stared at the camera lens with a coldness that made my skin crawl.
“Is this the headache, Sarah?” I asked, my voice surprisingly steady despite the adrenaline surging through me. The stranger began stammering about how he didn’t know she was married, even as our wedding photos sat on the nightstand.
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I watched her face for a glimmer of regret or a tear, but there was nothing but calculated silence. That was the exact moment I realized the woman I married forty-eight hours ago was a complete stranger.
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