While the wife was lugging heavy bags home and taking care of the children, the husband and his mistress were carelessly relaxing on the beach; but the vacation came to an abrupt end the moment his phone received a message with photos, and he froze in horror.

The husband lay on his side, lazily gazing at the sea. His mistress stretched out next to him. She wore sunglasses, her skin glistened with sunscreen, and a light smile constantly played on her lips — like someone who believes everything goes their way. She turned to him, propped herself up on her elbow, and without taking off her glasses, asked with a hint of mockery:

“And your wife… that brainless thing, she hasn’t suspected anything?”

He smirked, as if it were a ridiculous question, and shrugged.

“Nah. It’s none of her business.”

“What do you mean, none of her business?” she tilted her head slightly. “She’s at home, right? And you’re here with me. She really hasn’t felt a thing?”

He stretched, as if the conversation was tiring him, and replied in a calm, almost lazy voice:

“She has no time for that. She’s always busy. Everything’s on a schedule: kindergarten, homework, cooking, laundry. She thinks that’s what life is. And that everything’s fine between us.”

The mistress let out a quiet chuckle.

“Convenient. A wife like that is a dream. She carries everything on her own, and you get to relax. But you know…” — she slowly took off her glasses and looked him straight in the eye — “when are you finally going to divorce her?”

He didn’t look away, as if he’d long prepared for this question.

“Soon. Very soon.”

“You’ve been saying that for how long now?” she laughed. “A year? Two? I’m not twenty anymore, I can’t wait forever.”

“I told you, soon,” he said, a little more harshly. “I need to do this properly. Without any scandals.”

The mistress narrowed her eyes.

“Of course. So she’ll just keep putting up with it and staying silent, right? You know she won’t leave.”

He was about to answer, but at that moment something else crossed his mind. At home, his wife really did carry everything alone. In the morning she lugged heavy bags from the store, during the day she was always solving the children’s problems, in the evening she fell asleep without even having had a proper meal. And he had grown so used to it that he’d stopped noticing. It seemed to him that it was just how things should be.

The mistress stretched, adjusted a strand of hair, and said almost tenderly, but with a chill in her voice:

“Alright. I’ll go buy some water. You stay here, don’t get bored.”

She got up, grabbed her beach bag, and headed off toward the café. The husband stayed under the palm tree. He looked at the sea, then at his phone, which lay on the towel beside him.

And at that moment, a message came in. From his wife.

At first, he didn’t even tense up. He thought: something about the kids again, more problems. He opened the chat, already ready to let out an irritated sigh. But there was just one photograph.

He tapped it — and was horrified by what he saw. Continued in the first comment.

The photo showed a screenshot of a text conversation. And he immediately recognized it. Because the number was familiar.

It was his mistress’s chat log. With some other man.

His fingers instantly went cold. He read the first line — and couldn’t believe it.

“Just don’t get attached. I’m seeing him for the money.”

He blinked. Read it again. Then below.

“That bald guy thinks I love him. I don’t care about him at all. The main thing is that he pays and takes me places. I’m not going to live with him.”

His breathing became shallow. He felt his heart pound against his chest. He instinctively covered his mouth with his hand, as if afraid a sound might escape.

“I need you for something else. It’s fun with you, but the money — that’s him. Don’t text me when I’m with him. And we only meet quietly.”

His vision went dark. He sat there, staring at the screen, and suddenly realized that he had simply been… a wallet.