My husband had just left for a business trip an hour ago when the bathroom ceiling started dripping water again, filling me with doubt. Ever since we moved to this new neighborhood, whenever Quinn went on a business trip, the upstairs apartment would start leaking. The first few times, Quinn firmly refused to let me go up and negotiate, saying he was afraid the people upstairs would be unreasonable and I’d be wronged. After he reported it to the property management, the leaking would stop for a few days. But as soon as he left for a trip, the leaking would start again. This time, I called him first as usual. “Quinn, the house is leaking again.” I wasn’t sure if it was my imagination, but I thought I heard the sound of running water on the other end of the line. Then Quinn’s voice came through. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll go up and ask about it when I get back from my trip. The people upstairs are difficult to deal with. Whatever you do, don’t go up there yourself.” I nodded and agreed as I had before, but my feet were already carrying me out the door. I was going to see for myself just how difficult these upstairs neighbors really were.
Pressing the elevator button for the floor above, I felt both nervous and curious. Quinn had always said the upstairs residents had bad tempers, but every time he went to talk to them, the problem would be “smoothly resolved” for a few days. This was too suspicious. The elevator doors opened. I took a deep breath and walked toward the apartment door. As I approached, I could hear faint water sounds from inside, along with a woman’s giggling. I raised my hand and knocked. The sounds inside suddenly stopped. But after quite a while, no one came to the door. I knocked harder and raised my voice. “Hello, I’m from the apartment below. My bathroom ceiling is leaking again. I’d like to discuss the situation with you.” Still no response from inside. The water sounds had stopped too. Wisps of a fragrant scent drifted out through the door crack. I had never bought anything with this scent, yet it seemed familiar. My mind in turmoil, I waited several minutes. When no one opened the door, I went back downstairs. Back home, I opened the neighborhood property management group chat, hoping to find the upstairs resident’s contact information, but couldn’t find it after searching for ages. Feeling increasingly uneasy, I called property management, but they knew very little about this resident either. I walked to the balcony, thinking I might call out to them. Just as I leaned out, I saw a familiar figure flash by. Wasn’t that the gray jacket Quinn loved to wear? I wanted to get a better look, but after crouching there for half an hour, the person upstairs never came out on the balcony again. Could I have been mistaken? I shook my head, thinking I must have been too anxious and seeing things. Just then, my door lock suddenly clicked. I jumped. Quinn was on a business trip. Who else had a key? Could the upstairs resident have been angered by me and come to retaliate? I grabbed the broom beside me and hid behind the door, my heart pounding as I waited for it to open. The door slowly pushed open. A figure walked in, holding a bouquet of roses. I froze, the broom slipping from my hands. “Quinn? Aren’t you on a business trip? How did you get back?” Quinn looked startled too, then smiled and walked over. “The company had a last-minute change to the project. Plus you mentioned the leak, and I was worried, so I decided to come home and surprise you.” He reached out to hug me. I stepped back instinctively. “I just went upstairs to find the resident myself. There was clearly someone inside, but they wouldn’t open the door.” Quinn’s eyes flickered, then he quickly changed the subject. “I told you they’re difficult to deal with. I’ll go find them tomorrow. Just stay out of it.” He handed me the roses and leaned in to kiss me. In that instant, I caught the scent I had smelled upstairs. My heart tightened. The rose fragrance had been too strong at first, masking that other smell. Only when Quinn came close did I notice it, and I also discovered that the hair at the back of his neck was wet. I reached up to touch it. “How did your hair get wet?” His body tensed for a moment, then he smiled. “Didn’t you notice it’s raining outside? I got out of the car to buy you flowers and got caught in the rain.” I pulled back the curtains. It was indeed drizzling outside. Quinn’s explanation sounded perfectly reasonable, but my suspicions hadn’t faded. I didn’t show it, though. I accepted the flowers with a happy expression. “Thank you. You should go take a hot shower so you don’t catch cold.” He seemed relieved and headed straight for the bathroom. That night, lying in bed, my mind was full of the day’s events: the upstairs always leaking after Quinn left, the suspicious sound of water, the scent, the figure I’d seen, and his sudden return. None of it added up. Tomorrow, I had to follow Quinn upstairs to meet this resident.
Early the next morning, I had just set breakfast on the table when Quinn came over. He kissed me, his tone casual. “I just tried contacting the upstairs resident. He said he’ll get someone to come fix it today.” My milk glass paused mid-air. I looked up at him. “You have their contact information? Then why don’t you give it to me too, in case you’re on a trip again and there’s a problem, I can contact them myself.” Quinn shook his head, teasing. “A guy lives upstairs. He looks sleazy. My wife is so beautiful, I don’t want him harassing you. Besides, once this leak is fixed, we won’t have any more contact with him.” I didn’t speak. I looked down and stirred my oatmeal, my mind troubled again. Yesterday I had clearly heard a woman’s voice. Why was Quinn telling me it was a man? Could a couple be living upstairs? Over the next two days, I had to go on a business trip for work. But I was listless the entire time, my mind full of these matters. When I finally finished work, I decided to come home early. But when I used my key to open the door, it was locked from the inside. After about two minutes, Quinn opened the door. “How come you’re back? I thought you weren’t coming home until tomorrow?” I looked at his flustered expression and forced a smile. “I missed you, so I came back early. What were you just doing? Why did you lock the door from inside?” Quinn pointed to the apron he was wearing. “I was cooking. I probably locked it out of habit when I came in. Good thing you’re back. Go wash your hands and eat.” With that, he turned and went back to the kitchen, busying himself with the meal. Since we got married, as long as he was home, I never had to step foot in the kitchen. Everyone said I’d married a good man. On top of that, he was always thoughtful about holidays and special occasions, with gifts big and small constantly arriving. Watching his busy figure, waves of guilt suddenly washed over me. Maybe I really was being too sensitive. It was just coincidence. How could I suspect him of cheating? I nodded happily and walked over to look at the food—then stopped at a dish that shouldn’t have been on the table. My heart sank. “Why did you make lobster? We’re both allergic to lobster.” At that moment, the doubts I had just suppressed came flooding back. Quinn seemed to suddenly remember something. He hurriedly dumped the lobster in the trash. “A subordinate said this lobster was especially fresh, so I accepted it. Good thing you came back, or I would have suffered. Forget it. Let’s go out for a nice meal today instead of eating at home.” He placatingly put his arm around me and contritely massaged my shoulders. When we got to the restaurant, he handed me his phone. “Order whatever you want. Don’t think about saving money for your husband. I earn money to spend on my precious wife.” Just as I picked up the phone to order, my finger accidentally touched the search key. The next second, a pink keyboard with twenty-six keys popped up. My heart dropped. I stared blankly at the garish keyboard before me. I’d been with Quinn for three years, married for two. I knew his typing habits better than anyone. Neither of us ever used complicated keyboard skins. So what was this pink cat keyboard skin? Quinn had always used the phone’s default keyboard. This had to have been specially set by someone else. At this point, I was certain—Quinn was having an affair. That woman liked rose-scented body wash, enjoyed eating lobster, and used a kitty cat keyboard skin. But I didn’t confront him directly. I was going to catch them myself.
In the following days, to make Quinn show his hand, I stopped mentioning the upstairs situation. And after he said last time that he’d had someone fix it upstairs, there really hadn’t been any more leaking. Less than a week passed. Whether the mistress couldn’t wait or Quinn was getting anxious, he went on another “business trip.” This time, half a day after he left, there still wasn’t any leaking from upstairs. Had it really been fixed? Just then, there was a knock at the door, followed by a delivery person’s voice. I froze. I hadn’t ordered anything. Why was there a delivery? I opened the door and accepted the package. When I saw what was inside, my heart instantly raced. The recipient was Quinn, the address was our apartment number, and the phone number was my secondary number. But inside the bag was a bottle of body wash, a box of condoms, and a bottle of lubricant. My heart clenched. The items in my hand felt like they weighed a thousand pounds. As I expected, when I opened the body wash, that familiar scent instantly hit my nose. And I was allergic to lubricant. In all the time Quinn and I had been together, we’d never used such things. The truth was becoming clear. Quinn must be with that woman right now. He had ordered these items but hadn’t paid attention to the address, so they were delivered to our home. And the delivery app not automatically switching addresses also indicated that his second home must be somewhere near our complex. If I wasn’t mistaken, the upstairs apartment must be where the mistress was hiding. Because the day I came back early from my trip, Quinn had been cooking for her. But whether she hadn’t arrived yet, or had left early after learning I was coming home, I still couldn’t figure out. I was so angry my breathing became rapid. Tears streamed down drop by drop. But quickly, I wiped my tears and took these items out the door. When I got upstairs, I knocked hard on the door. In less than ten minutes, it opened. “What the hell! Why are you banging on my door so late at night?” Seeing the burly man before me, completely unprepared, I froze in shock. What was going on? Had I really been overthinking everything all along? Before I could react, the man grabbed my hair hard and slammed me into the door. “I’ve been putting up with you for a long time! Having your boyfriend come bother me again and again. Now I’ve fixed the leak and you still come looking for trouble. I’ll beat you to death!” His fists, the size of sandbags, rained down on my body. I kept begging for mercy through the pain. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Please stop!” Just as I was about to pass out, the man finally stopped. “I’m telling you, if you dare come up and bother me again, I’ll kill you.” I curled up on the ground, my body in too much pain to speak. The man slammed the door shut. After about ten minutes, I slowly got up from the floor and went home. Nearly breaking down, I video-called Quinn. When he saw my condition, his face immediately filled with anxiety. “What happened to your face?! Who hurt you?” I didn’t answer. I just held up the bag. “Quinn, how do you explain these items?” Quinn looked surprised and said angrily, “This must be that upstairs resident playing tricks! That day I went up to have him fix the leak, he was very unhappy and even wanted me to pay the repair costs. When I refused, he tried to hit me. In the end, I threatened to call the police and he finally let me go. I was afraid you’d worry so I didn’t tell you. This must be his petty revenge. I’ll come back right away.” The injuries on my body throbbed with pain. I could no longer tell what was true and what was false in Quinn’s words. Who exactly was living upstairs? About three hours later, Quinn came rushing back, travel-worn.
As soon as Quinn walked in and saw the bruises on my face, his eyes reddened. He came over and gently touched my injuries, his tone urgent and distressed. “I’m going upstairs right now to settle accounts with him. Make him pay.” Quinn immediately pulled me upstairs and started pounding on the door. My heart was about to jump out of my chest. “Open up! Come out here!” No response from inside. He pounded several more times. The door finally opened. It was still that man, looking impatient. “What do you two want now? Looking for another beating?” Quinn immediately pushed me behind him, pointing at the man’s nose and cursing. “You’ve got some nerve! You ordered those disgusting things for my wife and even hit her. Today it’s either you or me.” The man sneered, his face full of disdain. “So what if I ordered them? You won’t let me have peace, so I won’t let you have peace either.” Both Quinn and I were stunned, not expecting him to admit it so directly. And I felt deeply guilty for having suspected Quinn, unable to help asking, “Why would you do this? Just because we asked you to fix the leak?” The man leaned against the door frame, his eyes full of malice. “Yeah, I’m just sick of being bothered by you two. I’m not happy about it. I’m warning you, if you dare come knocking on my door again, I really will kill someone.” Quinn was about to rush at him, but I held him back. “Forget it. There’s nothing to say to someone like this. Let’s just call the police.” But at the mention of police, both men exchanged glances, their expressions somewhat panicked. Quinn’s aggression suddenly deflated. He pulled me back, urging, “We just moved here. If we make too big a scene, the neighbors will gossip.” Then the man also suddenly changed his tune, saying in a low voice, “Hitting you was wrong of me, but you pushed me to it. Your husband has come here so many times, anyone would be annoyed. How about this—I’ll pay you whatever compensation you want and apologize. Just don’t pursue this matter.” Thinking about how we’d finally bought this apartment and that it was better to avoid trouble, I held back my anger. Life returned to normal, and my doubts dissipated. Until I was searching through a drawer for a bank card and found several property fee receipts. Looking closely, the address was actually the upstairs apartment number. My hand holding the receipts trembled uncontrollably. My heart had completely turned cold. Not only that, I also discovered a new key on Quinn’s keychain. I secretly removed it and had an identical copy made. The next time he went on a business trip, I opened the tracking app I’d installed on his phone. Sure enough, he was still in the complex. I took the copied key, took a deep breath, and headed upstairs. Standing at the door, my hands shook a little, but I still inserted the key and turned it. The door opened. The next second, a woman’s scream rang out. “Who are you? Why are you entering my house?” Ignoring her words, I almost frantically searched the house, but couldn’t find Quinn anywhere. Why? Why? I looked around desperately. There was a gray jacket on the sofa. I recognized it at a glance. And the razor on the nightstand was also the brand he always used. Everything was telling me one fact—Quinn was having an affair. But I still had no way to prove it. Amid the woman’s curses, I went back home. When I pushed open the door, I froze. Quinn was holding his phone, looking at me with confusion. “Where did you just go? I only realized after leaving that I’d left my phone at home, so I came back to get it.” I stood in the doorway, looking at him, unable to say a word. But my mind was screaming: What on earth is going on?
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