My wife started coming home after 9 p.m. with weird marks on her wrists – so I showed up at her office unannounced one evening

"Oh, it's probably because of a hair tie, honey," she said. "Let me go see Lena. I'll be right back."

I nodded, but something just didn't add up. I've never seen a tie leave such wide marks. Or such deep ones. And the worst part?

They didn't fade. Not for days. I kept looking, checking when she wasn't paying attention, and they were still there, but fainter. A dull, stubborn imprint.

So one evening I made a choice.

I picked Lena up from school and took her to my mom's, telling her she was going to have a great sleepover. I told her we'd planned everything at the last minute, and Mom didn't ask any questions.  She never asks questions.

Then I drove to Nara's office.

The building was almost empty. Just a cleaning crew dragging mops through the silent hallways and the security guard at the entrance, who smiled and waved me through the turnstile when I said, "I'm Nara's husband."

“I know, Jonathan!” he said. “We met at the company picnic, remember?”

That smile haunted me for some reason, as if it knew something I didn't. Or maybe I was just looking for signs where there weren't any.

As I headed down the hallway, the air changed. Fluorescent lights buzzed above me, dim but persistent, and my footsteps echoed louder than they should have. Everything seemed off, too clean, too quiet.

That kind of silence that doesn't calm you down, but tells you that something is...  wrong .