I came home after an ordinary workday, tired, with a bag of groceries in one hand and an umbrella in the other. Everything was quiet. I immediately felt that something was wrong.
When I reached the hallway, my eyes stopped on the bathroom door. It… was literally smashed in. The middle was broken through, as if someone had punched it — or thrown themselves at it.
Pieces of wood were scattered on the floor, and there was a smell of broken tiles… and something else coming from inside.
I froze. Then, trying to stay calm, I called out to my husband:
— What happened to the door?
He came out of the bedroom, scratching his head like it was nothing.
— Oh, yeah… Funny story. I accidentally locked myself in the bathroom. My phone was in the other room. I panicked. So… I decided to break the door down. Wasn’t easy.
I looked at him. Then at the door. Then back at him.
— You just… smashed the door?
He shrugged:
— What else could I do? I wasn’t going to stay trapped in there until you got home?
— You get home just half an hour before me. You had time to do all that?
He just shrugged again, saying nothing.
I walked past him without a word, took out my laptop, opened the browser and typed: “How to file for divorce online.”
Because in the mirror behind the wreckage in the bathroom… I had seen a bottle of women’s perfume.
One that wasn’t mine.
He probably didn’t have time to hide everything — thanks to the broken door.
