Digital Drowning

Elena stared at her husband's iphone on the kitchen counter, its screen lighting up with another notification at 2 AM. For three months, she'd played the loyal friend to Sarah, Mark's business partner, while suspicion had been eating her alive like water eroding stone.

Tonight, while Mark showered, she'd done it—she'd become the spy she always despised. His phone had revealed everything: Sarah wasn't just his business partner. They'd been selling proprietary algorithms to competitors, funding secret accounts in the Caymans, and worst of all, they'd been planning to frame Elena when the internal audit inevitably came.

The bathroom door creaked open. Steam rolled out like the fog of her own confusion.

"Everything okay, El?" Mark asked, his voice so warm, so familiar. He moved toward her, water still clinging to his chest from the shower.

Elena's thumb hovered over the email she'd drafted to their CEO. One tap and it was over—her marriage, her life as she knew it, the comfortable existence they'd built. But she'd be free of these lies.

"Fine," she heard herself say. "Just tired."

Their golden retriever, Buster, chose that moment to pad into the kitchen, his nails clicking softly on the hardwood. He looked at her with those soulful eyes, then at Mark, whose hand went automatically to the dog's head. The same hand that had typed those betrayals. The same hand that had held hers at her mother's funeral.

"We're meeting Sarah tomorrow," Mark said casually. "Finalize the merger."

The merger. The one that would make them both rich before the house of cards collapsed.

"Looking forward to it," Elena said, her voice steady. She pocketed his phone, usb drive already burning in her pocket. "Jim from compliance invited me for lunch. Said he had questions about the last quarter."

Mark's hand froze on Buster's head. The dog whined, sensing the sudden tension in the room.

"Did he now?" Mark said softly.

Elena met his eyes for what felt like the first time in years. Water lapped at the edges of her vision—tears or rage, she couldn't tell anymore.

"Yes," she said. "And I think I'll have a lot to share."