I Forgot to Tell My Husband the Security Camera Was Fixed Before My Business Trip

But I kept thinking about that camera.

And I kept wondering why he’d lied.

On the flight home, I tried to convince myself I was being paranoid. That there was a reasonable explanation. That checking the footage would reveal nothing except Daniel watching TV in his underwear and eating cereal over the sink like a college student.

But when I walked into our apartment on Friday afternoon, the first thing I did—even before unpacking, before showering, before doing anything else—was sit down at my laptop and log into the cloud account where the camera footage was stored.

My hands were shaking slightly as I clicked on the recordings from the past two weeks.

The system organized everything by date and time, thumbnail images showing each segment.

I started scrolling through, clicking randomly.

There was Daniel on the couch, working on his laptop. Daniel making coffee. Daniel watching a basketball game.

All perfectly normal.

I was about to close the laptop, feeling ridiculous for even checking, when I noticed something.

A segment from Wednesday afternoon, five days after I’d left.

The thumbnail showed Daniel in the living room—but he wasn’t alone.

There was another person sitting on the couch beside him.

A man I didn’t recognize.

My heart rate kicked up.

I clicked on the video.

The footage began with Daniel unlocking the front door and stepping inside. A man followed him—thirties, tall, wearing jeans and a dark jacket. He looked around the apartment with the casual confidence of someone who’d been there before.

“Nice place,” the man said.

“Thanks,” Daniel replied, dropping his keys on the side table. “You want a beer?”

“Sure.”

They both sat down on the sectional, Daniel handing the man a bottle from the fridge.

For a moment, they just sat there drinking, making small talk about traffic and weather.

Then the man glanced up toward the ceiling.

Right at the camera.

“Does that thing record?” he asked, nodding toward it.

My breath caught.

Daniel followed his gaze and shook his head.

“No,” he said easily. “It’s been broken for like three weeks. Hasn’t worked since.”

The lie came out so smoothly it made my skin crawl.

“Good,” the man said. “So what did you want to talk about? You sounded weird on the phone.”

Daniel set his beer down and leaned forward, elbows on his knees.

“I need a favor,” he said. “A big one.”