The Trap

Mark was nervous. Sarah could see it in the way he kept checking his phone, looking toward the door, fidgeting with his collar. He'd brought Jennifer into the house — their house — and was giving her the tour he'd never given her before.

"This is the kitchen," he said, his voice too loud. "I don't cook much, obviously. Mostly takeout."

"It's beautiful," Jennifer said, playing her part perfectly. "So much natural light."

"And this is the living room." Mark gestured vaguely. "I don't spend much time here. Mostly just... you know. TV and stuff."

"Where's your roommate's room?" Jennifer asked innocently.

Mark hesitated. "Upstairs. But we don't need to go up there."

"I want to see your bedroom," Jennifer said, stepping closer to him. "I want to see where you sleep. I want to understand you, Mark. All of you."

Sarah watched her husband's face on the screen — the conflict, the desire, the fear. He wanted to take Jennifer upstairs. He wanted to show her the bedroom he shared with his wife, to claim it as his own. But he was afraid.

"Okay," he finally said. "But just for a minute."

They climbed the stairs, Mark leading the way, Jennifer following. Sarah switched to the bedroom camera, her heart pounding.

In the bedroom, Mark started to relax. He showed Jennifer Sarah's closet, making dismissive comments about her clothes. He pointed out the bathroom, the balcony, the view of the garden. He was playing the bachelor, the man living alone, the victim of a failed marriage.

"It must have been hard," Jennifer said softly. "Living like this."

"You have no idea," Mark said. "She's so controlling. So demanding. Nothing I do is ever good enough."

Sarah felt Rebecca's hand find hers and squeeze. She was crying, she realized — silent tears streaming down her face. But she didn't look away from the screen.

"I want to show you something," Jennifer said. She reached into her purse and pulled out her phone. "I found this online. I thought you should see it."

She turned the phone toward Mark. On the screen was a photo — Sarah and Rebecca, sitting together at the coffee shop, laughing.

Mark's face went white.

My Son Walked a Lost Little Girl Home. The Woman Who Answered The Door Was My Late Wife.