I Began to Suspect My Wife (1)
“Th-this... why is this here...?”
A trembling voice leaked from my lips. I stared down at the black, massive object clutched in my hand. Ah, no way—this has to be a dildo, right? Maybe it's something else? Like a massager or some workout tool...? But no matter how positively I tried to spin it, unless I was a complete idiot, it was obvious. A dildo. A woman's masturbation toy.
Ah...
I let out a short sigh. My mind tangled into knots.
This couldn't be my wife's. No way. The kindest, purest woman in the world wouldn't use something so grotesque. Then... did one of her friends leave it behind? Ridiculous. What kind of lunatic visits a newlywed's home and forgets something like that?
I ran through every possibility, but it all led to one conclusion. No matter how I looked at it... this was my wife's.
And that glistening liquid. The sticky, transparent fluid smeared on the base—it was clear she'd used it just moments ago. Right before I got home. Right here on this sofa.
Unwanted images flashed through my mind. At that exact moment, the front door's lock beeped and clicked open.
Beep-beep-click.
I jolted in panic, shoving the dildo back between the sofa cushions where I'd found it. Then, acting like I hadn't seen a thing, I bolted to the bedroom and plopped onto the bed. My heart pounded like mad.
“H-honey... y-you're home...?”
My wife, entering the living room, spotted me through the bedroom door crack and stammered in surprise. She held a food waste bin in her hands.
I forced a casual tone. “Y-yeah... work ended early.”
“Oh... r-right...”
She looked flustered. Normally, she'd squeal, Honey! You're home early! and throw herself into my arms. But now, she stood awkwardly by the door, forcing a smile.
“Where'd you go, honey?”
Her shoulders twitched at my question.
“Oh, I... just took out the food waste. It's so hot, it started smelling already...”
She lifted the empty bin as if to prove it, but her face screamed guilt. Her eyes darted nervously, cheeks faintly flushed.
“Uh... yeah...”
I could only mumble. I didn't know what else to say. This was so unlike her. An awkward, heavy silence stretched between us.
“Haha... you must be tired. Get some rest. It's been ages since you came home early...”
She smiled stiffly and stepped into the living room. Unconsciously, her gaze flicked toward the sofa—the exact spot where I'd held that thing moments ago.
She knew it was there. And now, she was probably trembling, wondering if it was gone... or if I'd seen it.
I said nothing, just sat on the bed watching her back awkwardly. She went to the kitchen, rinsed the bin, dried her hands, and returned to the living room.
The silence dragged on for minutes. Finally, she came into the bedroom, approached me, and sat beside me, wrapping me in a soft embrace. The awkwardness from before had vanished; she was her usual tender self.
“I'm so glad you came home early today...”
She pecked my cheek and whispered sweetly. Her embrace carried that familiar cozy, sweet scent. Inhaling it, the shocking discovery felt like a dream.
But the heavy presence hidden between the sofa cushions lingered in my mind.
“You should've texted if you were coming home this early.”
I smiled awkwardly. “W-wanted to... surprise you.”
“Hmm~ It was a total surprise.”
She nuzzled into my shoulder like a child, all pure and adorable. My heart grew even more confused. How could someone this lovable...
“So, what should we do? Dinner a bit early? Or... before that, shall we do it once?”
She whispered in my ear, her hot breath tickling. Normally, I'd pin her to the bed right then, but not today.
“...Uh, m-maybe later?”
I avoided her eyes, stammering. “If we do it now... we might not have energy at night. Tomorrow's the weekend, remember.”
I cited last night's promise as an excuse. She puffed her cheeks in a pout but nodded.
“Fine. Then brace yourself for tonight?”
“Y-yeah...”
Haha... I forced a laugh. It was all too confusing. This cute, loving woman... using that grotesque, massive dildo... alone...
It just didn't add up. Then, like a flash, a forgotten scene resurfaced. That video from the adult site I'd stumbled into late one overtime night. The woman who looked eerily like my wife.
For some reason, it hit me now. Blurry silhouette, unfamiliar tattoo, but those familiar movements...
“I-I'm gonna rest a bit... suddenly feel tired.”
I gently pushed her away and lay back on the bed. My head throbbed.
“Oh? Sure, rest well~ I'll prep dinner.”
She replied innocently, tucked me in, and left the room.
My thoughts couldn't keep up. My mind was a mess. To shake off the chaos, I needed a distraction.
I got up, went to the living room, sat on the sofa, and turned on the TV. Flipping channels aimlessly, I stopped on a documentary about lions on the African savanna.
Lions were hunting buffalo. I stared blankly at the brutal, primal scene.
Female lions worked together to take down the massive beast. I watched their desperate struggle for survival, thoughts empty.
From the kitchen came the sizzle of stir-frying and delicious aromas. But I had no appetite.
“Whatcha watching, honey?”
Dinner ready, my wife sat beside me on the sofa. She smelled of food and her warm, comforting scent.
“Oh... nothing. Just bored...”
I replied half-heartedly, eyes on the screen.
She leaned her head on my shoulder, watching with me. The scene shifted to a lion pride: lionesses, cubs, and an aging male with a thin mane.
Peaceful. But not for long.
A massive male with a thick black mane appeared, dwarfing everything. The narrator called him a young, powerful wanderer.
He roared and charged the old male. The elder fought back, but the size and ferocity gap was clear. After fierce clashes, the old lion fled, bloodied, tail low.
The victor roared triumphantly at his retreat. Then, casually approaching the females, he claimed ownership. They accepted the new king without resistance.
The narrator explained calmly: this was nature's law, instinct to pass stronger genes.
I muttered unconsciously, “Poor guy...”
The ousted lion looked so pitiful. Everything stripped away overnight.
But my wife saw it differently.
“Can't be helped. The weak get culled. Nature's ruthless.”
Her voice was detached, like the narrator—almost cold.
I turned to her. “Yeah, but... that's too harsh. He lost his whole family.”
“Not family. Just a pride changing leaders. Lionesses naturally want a stronger male. For safer cubs.”
She stated it matter-of-factly.
It felt strange, seeing this ruthless side from my always-gentle wife.
“Still... they might've loved each other.”
“Love in lion world? Nah, pure instinct. Attracted to the strong, discard the weak. Maybe that's the most honest way.”
Her words stabbed like daggers. Stronger opponent. Weaker one.
Her gaze flicked to me briefly. What did those eyes mean?
The scrawny defeated lion overlapped with me. And in the victor's place... that black, grotesque thing hidden in the sofa cushions.