My brother advised me to install a listening device in our apartment before I left for a month-long business trip to another city. I decided to follow his advice. When I left, two days later, I decided to turn on the listening device.

But what I heard made me freeze in horror. I never thought my life would change so rapidly. Just a month ago, I was a completely happy woman.

I had everything one could dream of. A loving husband, a good job, a cozy apartment in the center of the city. John and I had been living together for almost seven years.

We met in college, in our junior year. He was studying economics, I was in the foreign languages department. We dated other people who didn’t know English.

I taught English and German at a language school. The money was enough for all necessities and even a little more. We traveled abroad for vacations, furnished our apartment, made plans for the future.

Everything was fine. Until that day. At the language school where I worked, they offered me a month-long trip to San Francisco.

A branch of our school was opening, and they needed an experienced teacher to help set up operations and train new staff. It was a great opportunity for career growth, and the salary was promised to be 1.5 times higher. I agreed without hesitation, and John reacted calmly to the news.

He said he would miss me, but understood how important it was for me. He promised to call every day and look after the apartment. It seemed everything was fine.

A week before departure, I visited my parents. Mom and dad lived in the suburbs, in a small cozy house. I couldn’t visit them often due to work, but before a long business trip, I decided to see them for sure.

My brother Michael also came to the parental home that day. He is 4 years older than me, always been a caring and attentive brother. He works as a programmer at an import-export company, lives alone.

He had a decent relationship with John, though they weren’t close friends. We sat on the veranda, drinking tea. Parents went to the store, and Michael and I were left alone.

I told him about the upcoming business trip, my plans, how I missed San Francisco, where we once went on a school excursion. Suddenly, Michael interrupted me. “Emily, are you sure everything is okay with you and John?” The question caught me off guard.

Of course, everything is fine. Why do you ask? Michael paused, obviously choosing his words. I just have a strange premonition.

I can’t explain it. Maybe I’m wrong, but it seems to me that John has been behaving differently lately. I was surprised.

Michael saw John not that often, once a month at most. Where did these conclusions come from? What do you mean? Everything is normal with us. No problems.

Michael shrugged. Maybe. But you know, I would play it safe in your place.

What do you suggest? Install a listening device in the apartment. Before you leave. I laughed.

It seemed like my brother was joking. But he looked serious. Have you lost your mind? Why? I trust my husband.

Listen, Emily. I’m not saying that John is hiding something. But a month is a long time.

Better to be safe. I’ll give you a good device, compact, inconspicuous. Install it somewhere in the living room.

You’ll remotely listen to the recordings. If everything is normal, then you’ll remove it and forget. But if something is wrong.

Agree, it’s better to know the truth. I refused for a long time. The thought of spying on my own husband seemed wild to me.

But Michael was persistent. And in the end, I agreed. I thought that indeed, if everything is fine, no one will know, and I’ll be calm.

The next day, Michael brought me a small device, the size of a USB drive. He explained how to activate it, how to connect to it remotely through a special app on the phone. He said the battery would last a month, and the recording activates only when there are sounds in the room.

In general, everything is thought out. I hid the device in my bag and went home, feeling like a spy from a cheap detective novel. John wasn’t home, he was late at work.

I took advantage of the moment and installed the listening device in the living room, hiding it behind books on the shelf. Then I checked if the app worked on the phone. Everything functioned perfectly.

When John returned home, I felt a sharp pang of shame. How could I give in to my brother’s persuasion? How could I doubt the person with whom I had lived for so many years? I wanted to immediately retrieve the device and throw it away. But something stopped me.

Perhaps curiosity? Or deep inside, I had doubts that I myself wasn’t aware of. The following days passed in pre-departure fuss. I needed to prepare materials for classes, pack things, solve many organizational issues.

I hardly paid attention to the listening device. I turned it on in test mode only once, when John and I were having dinner. The recording was clear, words distinguishable.

Then I turned off the app and almost forgot about it. The day of departure came unexpectedly fast. John drove me to the airport, helped with the luggage, kissed goodbye.

He promised to call every day, said he would miss me. Everything as usual, nothing suspicious. The first two days in San Francisco passed in a frantic rhythm.

New team, new tasks, new city. I returned to the rented apartment late in the evening, exhausted. John called every day, told about his affairs, asked how I was settling in.

Ordinary conversations of loving spouses. On the third day, I returned home earlier than usual. Brewed tea, settled on the couch with a laptop.

There was a lot of work, I needed to prepare materials for tomorrow’s classes. And then I remembered the listening device. I don’t know why, but I decided to check the recordings.

Just like that, out of curiosity. Opened the app on the phone, connected to the device. It worked fine, several hours of recordings had accumulated.

I started listening from the beginning, from the moment of my departure. The first recordings were boring. John came home, turned on the TV, talked on the phone about work matters.

Nothing interesting. I was about to turn it off, but decided to check a little more. And then I heard it.

The sound of the front door. Footsteps. A woman’s voice.

So, she left? The voice was unfamiliar. Young, with a slight hoarseness. Yes, for a month.

We can not worry. This was John answering. I would recognize his voice out of thousands.

Great. So, we have plenty of time. The sound of a kiss.

Laughter, my heart clenched in pain. The first thought. Betrayal.

Banal, vulgar betrayal. The husband brought his mistress to our apartment as soon as I left. So predictable, so offensive.

But the next words made me freeze. Are you sure she suspects nothing? This is risky. Absolutely.

Emily completely trusts me. She thinks I work as a financial analyst, toiling over reports. She has no idea what I really do.

And if she finds out? She won’t. And if she does, it will be too late. By then, everything will be done, and we will be far away.

What? What is he talking about? What will be done? Where are they planning to go? Are you sure this will work? So much money is at stake. Everything is calculated. The scheme has been perfected over years.

No traces, no evidence. Clean work. And your boss? He won’t suspect? Mark won’t suspect anything.

He completely trusts me. Thinks I’m his right hand. Has no idea that I’ve been leaking information to competitors for years.

By the time he realizes what happened, his business will be destroyed. My brain refused to process what I heard. John.