My husband hit me when I found out he was cheating. The next morning, when he woke up to the smell of his favorite meat, he said, ‘So you know you were wrong, huh?’. But when he saw who was sitting at the table, he screamed in panic.

I cooked.
I prepared his favorite meal—pan-seared steak with garlic butter, rosemary potatoes, and caramelized onions. The smell filled the house, rich and comforting, exactly the way he liked it.
Ryan came downstairs, smug and relaxed. He sniffed the air and smirked.
“So,” he said lazily, pulling out a chair, “you know you were wrong, huh?”
I didn’t answer.
He sat down—and then froze.
Because he wasn’t the only one at the table.
Across from him sat Detective Mark Reynolds… and his mother, Patricia Carter.
Ryan’s face drained of color as he let out a scream of pure panic“What the hell is this?!” Ryan shouted, jumping back so fast his chair crashed to the floor.
Detective Mark Reynolds calmly folded his hands on the table. He was in plain clothes, but the badge clipped to his belt caught the light unmistakably. Beside him, Patricia Carter—Ryan’s own mother—sat stiffly, her lips pressed together, eyes red as if she’d been crying all night.

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