“You're free to go,” the chief said firmly. “And I meant everything I said. My office is open to you. Whatever you bring to my table, I will listen. You've more than earned that.”William nodded once and turned toward the door.He took a step, then another.Then he slowed, And stopped.Not because he had forgotten something.But because something had found him.A thought. Or rather, a feeling that had been buried underneath everything else since the moment he woke up twenty years in the past, a feeling that had waited patiently while he focused on bigger things, and was now rising to the surface with quiet and unmistakable force.Lydia.Benjamin, his ex-wife and his closest friend.The two people who had smiled at him, stood beside him, and shared his table while secretly dismantling everything he had built and everything he was.The affair was one wound.But the betrayal ran far deeper than that.He remembered what they had planned. What they had actually set in motion against him in

The morning came quietly.William's house held a stillness that felt earned rather than empty. No Lydia. There had never been a Lydia in these walls, not really. They had been together in the way two people can occupy the same relationship without ever truly sharing the same space. Dates, appearances, conversations that never went deep enough to matter.But never this house, this was his.He was standing in the kitchen, turning a cup of coffee slowly in his hands, his thoughts already three moves ahead of where most people's would be, when the knock came.Sharp. Familiar, he already knew before he moved.He set the cup down carefully, walked to the door, and opened it.Benjamin, standing there with his hands slightly open at his sides, his expression arranged into something that was trying very hard to look casual and concerned at the same time. William looked at him, the urge was immediate and physical. A hot, rising pressure behind his eyes and in his knuckles that wanted nothing m

Benjamin's hand was already in his pocket before he had even turned away from the door. He walked a few steps down the path, putting distance between himself and the house as if the walls themselves might be listening, and then he pulled out his phone and dialed. It rang once, Just once. “Benjamin.” Lydia's voice was composed as always, but there was an attentiveness underneath it, the sharpened focus of someone who had been half expecting this call. He didn't bother with a greeting. “He knows.” A beat of silence. “William knows about us,” Benjamin continued, his voice dropping lower. “The affair, everything. He knows. I could see it in his eyes, I could hear it in his voice. He's not reacting the way a man reacts when he's guessing.” He glanced back briefly at the house. “He's not guessing at all. He's known for a while and he's been holding it, staying calm, watching us move.” He pressed the phone harder against his ear. “So what do we do? Because the way he looked at

Benjamin couldn't keep still. He moved back and forth across the room in a tight, restless loop, his footsteps heavy and uneven, his hands finding his face and then dropping again, over and over, like a man trying to physically shake loose a thought that refused to leave him. Lydia watched him from across the room with her arms folded, her expression caught somewhere between irritation and forced composure. “Benjamin,” she said. “Stop. You're going to wear a hole in the floor.” “I can't,”he muttered, not stopping. “You need to calm down.” “I am calm.” “You are absolutely not calm.” He stopped suddenly and turned to face her, and there was something in his eyes that went beyond restlessness. Something closer to dread. “Something is wrong,” he said. Lydia's jaw tightened slightly. “Nothing is wrong.” “Something is wrong, Lydia.” He pressed two fingers against his temple. “I don't know how to explain it, but something in me just keeps saying it over and over again. Like a voi

Benjamin's hand was already in his pocket before he had even turned away from the door. He walked a few steps down the path, putting distance between himself and the house as if the walls themselves might be listening, and then he pulled out his phone and dialed. It rang once, Just once. “Benjamin.” Lydia's voice was composed as always, but there was an attentiveness underneath it, the sharpened focus of someone who had been half expecting this call. He didn't bother with a greeting. “He knows.” A beat of silence. “William knows about us,” Benjamin continued, his voice dropping lower. “The affair, everything. He knows. I could see it in his eyes, I could hear it in his voice. He's not reacting the way a man reacts when he's guessing.” He glanced back briefly at the house. “He's not guessing at all. He's known for a while and he's been holding it, staying calm, watching us move.” He pressed the phone harder against his ear. “So what do we do? Because the way