Four hours before the city-wide lockdown was announced, my husband, Liam Vance, sent me a text: Working late tonight, don't wait up. Six hours later, the entire city was under a strict quarantine mandate. I called his phone. It went straight to voicemail. I opened my flight tracking app. His name was listed on the passenger manifest for Delta Flight 587. Destination: Auckland, New Zealand. On that same flight, sitting right next to him, was Chloe Davis. Seats 12A and 12B. Window and middle. They were even sharing an armrest. In the kitchen, the pot roast was still simmering on the stove. My mother-in-law, Eleanor, poked her head out of the guest bedroom. "Why isn't Liam home yet? I'm starving." I turned off the burner. He wasn't coming home. The broth boiled over, hissing as it extinguished the flame. I stared at my phone screen. DL587, Status: Departed. Next to the status bar, a tiny airplane icon was slowly inching its way toward the Southern Hemisphere. I placed my phone face down on the counter. Walking into the master bedroom, I slid open Liam's side of the walk-in closet. Empty. Suits, winter coats, cashmere sweaters—not a single piece remained. Even his favorite brown loafers were gone. In his desk drawer, a rectangular dust outline marked where his passport usually sat. The house deed and our marriage certificate were still there. But his photocopy of his driver's license had been removed. This wasn't a spur-of-the-moment decision. I crouched down and pulled a shoebox from the very bottom of the closet. Inside was a printed e-ticket receipt from Delta Airlines. The print date was eleven days ago. Three tickets. DL587, Auckland. Rylee Miller, Liam Vance, Chloe Davis. The three names were printed side-by-side. But stamped across the ticket bearing "Rylee Miller" was a red "CANCELED/REFUNDED" watermark. Cancellation date: Five days ago. Eleven days ago, he bought three tickets. Five days ago, he canceled mine. He had considered taking me with him. And then, he decided not to. "Rylee!" Eleanor's voice echoed from the living room. "Where is the food? My blood sugar is dropping, are you trying to starve me?" I folded the itinerary and shoved it into my purse. When I walked out carrying a plate of food, the TV was blaring the emergency lockdown broadcast. "Effective at 10:00 PM tonight, all public transportation in the metropolitan area will be suspended. Residents are ordered to shelter in place and non-essential travel is strictly prohibited—" Eleanor frowned and changed the channel. "So annoying, they play this all day. Did Liam say when he's getting off work?" "He went on a business trip." "A business trip? Where to?" "Overseas." I set the plate down in front of her. Eleanor muttered something about "traveling at a time like this," lowered her head to eat, and didn't ask anything else. I stood on the balcony and watched as police tape was strung across the entrance to our gated community. A man carrying a suitcase tried to run out but was stopped by an officer and sent back. The wind was howling, whipping the yellow caution tape with a loud smack, smack, smack. At this exact moment, Liam was likely cruising at thirty thousand feet. Sitting next to him was Chloe. Standing next to me was his mother. My phone buzzed. A text from Liam: Just got to the office. Looks like I'll be here super late tonight, you should go to bed early. Sent at: 5:14 PM. At that time, he was already sitting in the international departure lounge. I didn't reply. I took a screenshot of the text and saved it to a newly created photo album. I thought about what to name the album for a second, then typed: Evidence. By the third day of the lockdown, our groceries had dwindled to almost nothing. Eleanor stood in front of the open fridge, rummaging around before slamming the door shut. "This is all we have left? Why didn't you stock up beforehand?" "Because Liam said there was no need to hoard, that the lockdown would be lifted quickly." "Can't you think for yourself? Do you have to rely on other people to plan everything for you?!" I didn't argue. I opened an app to check the community grocery delivery group. Vegetable bundles had to be pre-ordered a day in advance, arriving tomorrow at the earliest. I placed an order. $80 for a basic bundle: cabbage, potatoes, carrots, and a bunch of green onions. Eleanor leaned over and glanced at the screen. "Eighty dollars?! Are they robbing us?" "Then you'll have to endure it for one day, Eleanor. We'll have fresh food tomorrow." "You want a woman pushing sixty to go hungry?" She pulled out her phone and dialed Liam's number. It rang. "Liam! Your wife doesn't even know how to buy groceries, we're about to run out of food! When are you coming home?" She had it on speakerphone. Liam's voice came through, sounding slightly echoed, like he was in a large, empty room. "Mom, the lockdown is strict over there. I can't get back right now. Tell Rylee to figure something out." "Well, where are you? Can you even sleep at the office?" A brief silence. "Yeah... the company has a breakroom with cots. Don't worry." Eleanor hung up and immediately started lecturing me. "Look at you. Liam is sleeping on the floor at the office, and you can't even manage to put a decent meal on the table." I didn't say a word. The office breakroom. He was in Auckland, New Zealand, telling his mother he was sleeping on the floor at the office. I suddenly wondered how much Eleanor actually knew. Dinner was plain oatmeal with some pickled vegetables. Eleanor took two bites and slammed her spoon down. "I can't eat this garbage. It's pathetic." At 2:00 AM, a noise woke me up. The living room light was on. Eleanor was sitting on the sofa, talking on the phone. Her voice was hushed, but through the crack in my door, I heard her perfectly clearly. "...As long as you arrived safely, that's what matters. How is Chloe? Is she treating you well?" Chloe. She knew. She knew everything. She knew her son went to Auckland. She knew her son was with Chloe. She knew all of this, yet she lived under the same roof as me, ate the food I cooked, used the groceries I bought, and still had the nerve to curse me out for not providing a decent meal. "Don't worry about the visa issue. Chloe's family has connections; it'll definitely get approved." I leaned against the doorframe, my fingertips turning ice-cold. "Don't worry about Rylee, I'm keeping an eye on her," Eleanor's voice drifted through the quiet house. "Don't sell the house just yet, wait until the lockdown is lifted. Make sure she keeps paying the mortgage." Don't sell the house just yet. Make sure she keeps paying the mortgage. I quietly backed away from the door, not making a sound. I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. In this house, I was the only one being played for a fool. Day seven of the lockdown. I crouched on the balcony taking inventory: half a bag of rice, a quarter bottle of cooking oil, enough vegetables in the fridge for two days. I checked my bank account balance three times. Joint Checking Account Balance: $4.63. I remembered that when my paycheck hit last month, this account had nearly $65,000 in it. I pulled up the transaction history and scrolled down, line by line. Jan 15: Transfer Out - $15,000. Recipient: C. Davis. Jan 21: Transfer Out - $12,000. Recipient: C. Davis. Feb 2: Transfer Out - $20,000. Recipient: C. Davis. Feb 8: Transfer Out - $15,000. Recipient: C. Davis. C. Davis. Chloe Davis. Four transfers, totaling $62,000, draining our joint account entirely. Time span: twenty-four days. The last transfer was two days before the lockdown. $65,000. That was three years of my savings. When I quit my job as a researcher at the CDC, Liam told me he made enough money and that I should stay home and take care of his mother with peace of mind. But the mortgage on this condo was still being paid from my pre-marital savings account, costing $3,000 a month. The utilities, Eleanor's expensive supplements, and daily expenses all came out of the joint account. He deposited $4,000 into it every month, and my personal savings were pooled in there too. Now, it was all gone. My personal account only had $580 left. Not even enough for next month's mortgage. I sat on a small stool on the balcony. The sun warmed my back, but it couldn't reach the coldness in my heart. A message from Liam popped up: Honey, how are things over there? Are you and Mom okay? I stared at the word "Honey" for a long time. I typed out a single line: Where is the money from our joint account? Sent. Three minutes later, he replied: What money? The $62,000. The money transferred to C. Davis. Read. No reply. Ten minutes later, he called me. "Rylee, listen to me. That money went into a high-yield investment. Once I get back, we'll—" "C. Davis is Chloe Davis." Silence. "...She's helping me manage some offshore assets. You wouldn't understand the financial side of it." "I wouldn't understand?" I let out a short laugh. "Liam, my Ph.D. is in Epidemiology, but I minored in Statistics during my undergrad. Do you want to guess what else I found when I ran an analysis of your spending habits over the last six months?" He hung up. I didn't call back. I took a screenshot of the call log and saved it to the "Evidence" folder. Eleanor hobbled out of the bathroom using her cane, looking pale. "Rylee, I feel dizzy." I helped her sit down and took her blood pressure: 168 over 100. She had a history of hypertension. She hadn't been eating well the past few days, and her medication was running low. I scoured the medicine cabinet. Only three blood pressure pills left. I called the community health hotline; busy signal. I called 911; placed on hold due to high call volume. I hung up the phone and looked at Eleanor's pale face. This woman, who had actively helped her son scheme against me, was currently leaning against my shoulder, trembling. "Rylee, I feel awful..." "I know." I broke one of the last three pills in half and gave it to her. "Take this for now. I'll go figure something out." Hating her was one thing. Letting her die on my watch was another. I got the blood pressure medication from my neighbor, Sarah. She lived across the hall, a retired nurse who used to work at the local clinic. When I knocked on her door, she was mixing bleach to sanitize the hallway. "Blood pressure meds? Yeah, I have half a box left. What kind does your mother-in-law take?" "Nifedipine extended-release." Sarah dug through her medical kit and handed me a blister pack. "This is enough for ten days. By then, the pharmacies should be allowed to deliver again." "Thank you so much, Sarah." "Do you have a medical background?" she asked suddenly. I paused for a second. "I used to. Not anymore." "What field?" "Epidemiology." The look in Sarah's eyes changed. "Rylee, do you know our district doesn't even have a specialist advising us right now? The community clinic only has two doctors, and they're overwhelmed. A few days ago, someone in Building 3 had symptoms, and everyone was terrified. We didn't have anyone qualified to assess the risk." I didn't reply. Three years. It had been three years since I touched anything related to my field. Liam had said: "A family only needs one breadwinner. You staying home and taking care of Mom is more valuable than any job." Eleanor had said: "What's the point of a woman getting all those degrees? She still just ends up staying home to raise kids." My publication record had flatlined three years ago. My former mentor, Dr. Harrison, texted me every New Year's Day: "Rylee, the door to the research institute is always open for you." Every year, I replied, "Thank you, Professor," and went back to making soup, buying groceries, and sorting Eleanor's pills. When I got back inside, Eleanor's color had improved. She had taken the medicine and was leaning back on the sofa, watching TV. "Rylee, look at this news segment." The TV was broadcasting a report about Liam's company, highlighting their donation of medical supplies to overseas relief efforts. The screen flashed, and I saw Liam. Impeccably dressed in a tailored suit, standing among a group of executives behind a donation banner. The background was the blindingly blue sky of Auckland. Standing right next to him was a woman in a sleek black blazer, her hair pinned up elegantly, a necklace resting against her collarbone. I recognized that necklace. Swarovski, the iconic Swan collection. Liam had given it to me for our anniversary last year. I had only worn it once, feeling it was a bit too flashy, and put it away in my jewelry box. Now, it was draped around Chloe's neck, catching the light for the cameras. Eleanor didn't recognize it. She only cared about her son. "Liam looks so thin; his face is drawn. He's all alone out there, I wonder if anyone is taking proper care of him." Someone was taking care of him. Taking very good care of him. While wearing my jewelry. I walked into the kitchen and turned the faucet on full blast. The rushing water drowned out everything else. I gripped the edge of the sink for a long time, my nails digging into my palms. The cold water ran through my fingers. When I finally turned the faucet off, my phone rang. Caller ID: Dr. Harrison. "Rylee, you know what the situation is like right now. Our institute is desperately short-staffed, and your expertise in transmission dynamics modeling is exactly what we need." "Professor, it's been three years since I—" "Three years is nothing. Your brain hasn't atrophied, and you haven't stopped keeping up with the literature. I checked the system logs; you've maintained your premium access to the academic databases." I stayed silent. He knew I had kept reading. Liam didn't know. Eleanor didn't know. Only my mentor knew that I had never truly let it go. "Come on as a volunteer first, no pressure. But Rylee, your talent shouldn't be wasted standing in front of a stove." I hung up the phone and stepped out onto the balcony. The courtyard of the complex below was completely empty. Dead leaves were tangled in the chains of the swingset. There was no sound of children playing. The entire city felt like it was on pause. But for some things, it was time to hit play again. Day fifteen of the lockdown. Liam started calling frequently. Not me, but his mother. Every evening after dinner, Eleanor would take her phone into her bedroom and shut the door. I didn't try to eavesdrop anymore. I didn't need to.
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