Prologue: Loving in AnxietyMarriage is often painted as a glorious union, a perfect harmony of hearts beating in synchrony. But beneath the surface of wedding bells and honeymoon selfies, some unions carry secrets—deep, dangerous secrets. Iris and Alex were no exception.They were a new couple, barely six months into their marital journey. On the outside, they seemed ideal: Iris, a bright-eyed literature teacher with a poetic soul and a laugh that could melt ice; Alex, a reserved software developer whose calm demeanor drew people to him like moths to a flame. But behind their picture-perfect lives, something dark brewed.Alex had a secret.A secret that could shatter everything.Iris had a suspicion.A suspicion that, if proven true, could tear her heart in two.Their love was real. But so was the anxiety that danced silently between their kisses, lingered in their long silences, and screamed in their separate dreams at night.This is their story—a tale of love, laughter, betrayal, forgiveness, and a secret that would test the very foundation of their vows.---Chapter One: The Breakfast BurnIris’s Monday began like most of her mornings did lately—with a fight against the toaster. The tiny, chrome-plated device blinked back at her innocently, as if it hadn’t just produced a charred slice of what was once cinnamon-raisin bread.“Seriously?” Iris frowned, waving away a curl of smoke. She opened the kitchen window and held the offending toast out the frame. A neighbor’s cat blinked up at her from the fence, unimpressed.“Third time this week,” she muttered. “The toaster clearly has a vendetta. Maybe it’s trying to tell me I shouldn’t be a wife who cooks.”Alex strolled in, still half-dressed in his work-from-home uniform—business shirt up top, pajama bottoms down below. He eyed the toast with a smirk.“Is it that time again?” he said, opening the fridge for orange juice. “Do I need to stage an intervention?”“It’s toast,” Iris said dramatically. “How does someone mess up toast?”“You have many talents, love. Toast isn’t one of them.”She gasped and threw a tea towel at him. “That’s betrayal, Alexander.”“I prefer to think of it as a gentle truth.”Their morning banter was the daily glue in their routine. Iris loved these moments—the quiet intimacy of breakfast, the way their conversations meandered from nonsense to philosophy in minutes. But even as she laughed, she noticed something.Alex’s phone buzzed on the counter. He snatched it up quickly before she could even glance at the screen.Iris frowned. “You’ve been doing that a lot lately.”“Doing what?” he asked, pouring himself coffee.“Guarding your phone like it’s a dragon’s egg.”He raised an eyebrow. “It’s work. You know how they are—always panicking over server logs.”“Even on Sunday nights?” she said, crossing her arms. “You were gone for almost an hour. I thought you were just taking out the trash.”Alex paused. His fingers tightened around the coffee mug. “You’re suspicious.”“Should I be?”There was a moment. Just a second. A flicker in his eyes—uncertainty? Fear? She couldn’t tell.Then he smiled, the same calm, disarming smile that had made her fall for him in the first place. “If I were up to anything, would I really be dumb enough to leave a trail of burnt toast behind?”Iris laughed despite herself, but the question hung between them, unanswered.She watched as Alex sat at his desk in the corner of their small apartment, his laptop open, his expression all business. His fingers tapped quickly on the keyboard, his coffee untouched.Iris turned back to the stove, started on a new piece of toast, and tried not to think about the knot forming in her stomach.---Chapter Two: The Suspicion DeepensTuesday felt off.The sun was shining, her students were cooperative, and she even got a free coffee when the barista messed up someone else’s order—but Iris couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn’t right.She walked through the halls of the high school where she taught English literature, distracted. A student asked her a question about Shakespeare, and she gave a response that mixed Hamlet with Macbeth. They laughed. She didn’t.During lunch, she texted Alex:You good?He replied within seconds:Yeah, just slammed with code reviews. Love you.Quick. Too quick.Iris stared at her phone, thumbs hovering above the screen. Finally, she typed:Can we talk tonight? I’ve been feeling... weird.He read it but didn’t respond.Her stomach sank. And so, after school, she drove straight to her best friend’s apartment.Tasha answered the door with a face mask on and a slice of pizza in hand. “You look like you just found out you’re in a reality TV show.”“I might be,” Iris said, brushing past her. “One of those dramatic ones where the sweet guy ends up being a robot or a Russian spy.”Tasha followed her into the living room. “Okay, sit. Spill.”Iris paced. “Alex is hiding something