I Decide To Come Home Early For Our 15th Anniversary And I Find My Wife With The Man I Work For

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What is discussed at the start of this section?

Nathan Chen 0:03
Hello, and welcome to Cheating All the Time. Glad you are here. Let's get into this next crazy cheat. The box was small, black velvet, $50,000. I stood there at Tiffany's holding it like an idiot. The saleswoman smiled, perfect teeth. Your wife is very lucky, Mr. Chen. Lucky, yeah, 15 years. That's what this little box meant. 15 years of 70-year weeks, 15 years of missed dinners, 15 years of sorry honey, the Tokyo call ran late. All for her. For Margaret. For the kids. The necklace caught the light. Diamonds. Lots of them. The kind of things she'd hint about leave catalogs open to. I'd always say later. Always later. When we had more saved. When the kids' college funds were fuller. But not today. Today was different.
Nathan Chen 0:53
I left the store. The June heat hit me like a wall. Sweat instant on my back. The flowers, sixty red roses from Ecuador, wilted a little in my other hand. Didn't matter. She'd love them. The drive home took twenty minutes. I left the office at two. Told my assistant I had a dentist appointment. First lie I told in months. Felt weird on my tongue. Our street was quiet. Always was on Wednesday afternoons. The Johnson sprinklers, just us disking. Miss S. Park walking her ancient poodle. My house sat at the end. Vague white columns. Margaret's dream home. I'd worked myself half to death for that house. Two cars in the driveway. My chest tightened. Margaret's BMW. And a black Mercedes. New S-Class. I knew that car. My hands started to shake.
Nathan Chen 1:44
Just a little. Why was Robert's car here? My boss. My fucking boss. Stop it. Don't be that guy. Don't be paranoid. Maybe it was work. Maybe the front door was unlocked. We never left it unlocked. Never. Margaret was paranoid about break-ins. Always double-checked. Triple-checked. I stepped inside. Quiet. Too quiet. Then I heard it. Laughter. From upstairs. Margaret's laugh. That throaty sound she made when she was really happy. When she was no. My legs moved on their own. Up the stairs. One at a time. The roses trembled in my hand. Water dripped on the hardwood. Plop, plop, plop. The bedroom door was cracked. More laughter. A man's voice. Deep. Familia. God, you're incredible, Robert. My hand reached for the door. Burst. Slow.
Nathan Chen 2:43
Like in a dream. They didn't see me at first. She was on top. Her back to me. That birthmark on her shoulder blade. The one I had kissed a thousand times. Moving. Rhythm. Sounds I knew. Sons that were mine. The champagne bottle in the nightstand. Dom Perignon. $300. I'd never bought it. Too expensive. Always too expensive. MMM Robert. The roses hit the floor. She turned. Saw me. Our face. Time stopped. Her mouth opened. No sound. Eyes wide. So wide. Robert scrambled back. Thick still hard. Pathetic. Nathan, this isn't I turned around. Workout. Down the stairs. One at a time, behind me, scrambling. Nathan, wait, Nathan. Out the door to my car. Nathan, into the driver's seat. Key in ignition, Margaret at the window, sheet wrapped around her, banging on the glass.
Nathan Chen 3:45
Piers, mascara running. I backed up, drove away. My hands didn't shake anymore. Wait, they were steady, too steady. I made it three blocks before I had to pull over, then I threw up, all over the curb, breakfast, coffee, bile, again, again, until nothing came up but spit and pain. Fifteen years, fifteen fucking years, a woman walked by with her kid, stared. I must have looked insane, suit and tie, hunched over, crying and puking in broad daylight. I wiped my mouth, got back in the car. Where do you go when your life explodes? I drove to a motel, the kind that rents by the eye of fitting. The room smelled like smoke and in sadness.

What emotional turmoil does the protagonist experience after discovering the affair?

Nathan Chen 4:19
I sat on the bed, springs creaked, stared at the wall, water stain that looked like Texas. Then I remembered. The cameras. Jesus Christ, the cameras. I'd put them in last week. Margaret had been paranoid about break-ins. Ironic. I'd installed them myself. Head and wands. Living room. Kitchen. Bedroom. Bedroom. My phone was in my hand before I thought about it. Open the app. Secure home. Stupid name. Recordings. Last seven days. I scrolled. Today. This morning. Yesterday. Before there. Monday night. 11.47pm. Blair. Our bedroom.

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