Evidence of June

The orange sunset hit the kitchen window just as Elena discovered the first strand of hair—long, copper-orange, tangled in her husband's toothbrush. Not hers. She'd cut her hair months ago.

Marcus was working late again. Or so he claimed.

Elena washed the spinach she'd planned for dinner, her hands trembling as she remembered: the baseball tickets he'd bought but never mentioned, the receipts from a restaurant across town, the way he now checked his phone with his back to her. She'd become a spy in her own marriage, gathering evidence like case files.

The baseball stadium receipts showed dates when Marcus claimed to be at conferences. The spinach in her colander looked absurdly normal, just as their Sunday morning pancakes had seemed normal last week, while he'd texted someone with his phone hidden under the table.

She remembered the women's fragrance on his collar last month. How he'd laughed it off—sat next to someone on the train. She'd believed him, wanted to believe him. Now the orange hair in the sink, the receipts, the guarded phone—they formed a pattern she could no longer deny.

The baseball game on TV droned in the background. She'd loved baseball once. They'd met at a game, sixteen years ago. He'd bought her a cracker jack, kissed her when the home run sailed over the fence. Now the sport felt like a relic of someone else's marriage.

Eela dried her hands, walked to the closet where she'd hidden the surveillance photos. A woman with orange hair, laughing at a cafe. Marcus leaning in, his hand on her knee.

She sat at the kitchen table, the spinach dinner forgotten, and made her list. What she'd take. What she'd leave. The way her name would sound in her own apartment, alone.

The phone rang. Marcus's work line.

"Running late again," he said. "Save me some dinner?"

"Of course," she said, her voice steady. "I'm making your favorite."

She hung up and watched the sun dip below the horizon, orange bleeding into purple. Tomorrow she'd leave. Tonight, she'd make him dinner one last time.