Daniel glanced toward the staircase.
"Maybe he's here about work."
"Daniel, listen to me. I saw them together."
His jaw tightened.
"Together how?"
Margaret hesitated.
She did not want to destroy her son's marriage with a sentence that could never be taken back. But she also knew that protecting him from the truth would only make the eventual discovery more painful.
"They were in the shower room together. Clara was wearing a towel. Ryan was standing right behind her."
Daniel stared at her.
The phone in his hand suddenly seemed very heavy.
"You're sure?"
"I wish I weren't."
He looked away.
For the past several months, Daniel had been trying to convince himself that his marriage was going through an ordinary difficult period.
Clara had become increasingly distant. She spent more time on her phone, answered certain calls in private, and sometimes seemed distracted even when they were sitting together at dinner.
Whenever he asked whether something was wrong, she told him he was imagining things.
He had believed her.
He wanted to believe her.
And now his mother was telling him that another man was upstairs with his wife.
"Let's go," he said.
Margaret held his arm for a moment.
"Daniel, please. Whatever happens, don't lose control."
He looked at her.
"How am I supposed to do that?"
"By remembering who you are."
He took a slow breath.
Then he walked toward the stairs.
Margaret followed.
Neither of them spoke as they crossed the hallway.
The closer they came to the master bathroom, the louder the sound of running water became. Daniel could hear it through the half-open door.
He stopped just outside.
His mother moved beside him.
"Daniel," she whispered.
He raised one hand.
Then he pushed the door open.
***
The bathroom fell silent.
Clara stood beneath the shower enclosure, holding her purple towel tightly against herself. Her wet hair clung to her neck, and her face had gone pale.
Ryan was standing several feet behind her.
Daniel stared at him.
For one terrible second, he could not recognize the man he was looking at.
Not because Ryan had changed, but because Daniel's understanding of him had changed completely.
This was the same person who had once sat across from him at a restaurant, joking about work and offering advice about marriage. The same person who had attended his birthday celebration and shaken his hand when Daniel had announced his promotion.
The same person he had trusted enough to invite into his home.
"What are you doing here?" Daniel asked.
Ryan opened his mouth.
"Daniel, I can explain."
Daniel stepped into the bathroom.
"Then explain."
Clara began to cry.
"Daniel, please."
He looked at her.
"Please what?"
She shook her head.
"This isn't what you think."
Daniel gave a short, bitter laugh.
"That's interesting. Because I haven't even told you what I think."
Ryan moved toward the glass door.
Daniel turned sharply.
"Stay there."
Ryan stopped.
Margaret stood behind her son, her expression hard with disappointment.
"Now you understand why I came looking for you," she said quietly.
Daniel looked at his mother, then back at Clara.
He had imagined many possible explanations for his wife's recent behavior. Perhaps she was unhappy. Perhaps she wanted more attention. Perhaps there was a problem they needed to discuss.
But he had never imagined standing in his own bathroom, watching his wife struggle to explain why another man was there.
"How long?" he asked.
Clara's tears continued falling.
"Daniel..."
"How long has this been happening?"
Ryan looked at the floor.
That small movement told Daniel more than a dozen explanations could have.
He stepped closer to the shower enclosure.
"Look at me, Ryan."
Ryan slowly raised his eyes.
"How long?"
"Daniel, this is complicated."
"Then make it simple."
Ryan swallowed.
"There has been a misunderstanding."
Daniel shook his head.
"A misunderstanding? You came into my house. You went upstairs. You were standing with my wife in the bathroom. What part of that am I supposed to misunderstand?"
Clara pressed one hand against her mouth.
Margaret watched her carefully.
She had expected anger from her son. She had expected shouting, perhaps even a confrontation. What she had not expected was the expression on his face.
It was not simply anger.
It was heartbreak.
Daniel looked at Clara again.
"Did you invite him here?"
She said nothing.
"Clara, answer me."
"Yes."
The single word seemed to drain the remaining strength from him.
He looked down briefly.
Then he nodded.
"All right."
Clara took a step forward.
"Daniel, I never wanted you to find out like this."
He stared at her.
"You never wanted me to find out?"
She began sobbing.
"I know how this looks."
"Stop saying that."
He raised his voice, but only slightly.
"Stop talking about how it looks. I want to know what happened."
Clara looked toward Ryan.
Daniel noticed.
His eyes narrowed.
"Don't look at him. Look at me."
She turned back.
"How long have you been seeing him?"
"I..."
"Months?"
She closed her eyes.
Daniel waited.
"Clara."
"A few weeks," she whispered.
Margaret looked sharply at her.
Daniel remained still.
"A few weeks," he repeated.
"Yes."
"And you thought it was a good idea to bring him into our home?"
Clara shook her head.
"It wasn't supposed to happen here."