The hallway spun.
She led me toward the bedroom, chatting about renovation plans. On the dresser sat a framed photo—Ethan and her at the beach. Dated last summer. That was when he’d told me he was on a work retreat.
The bathroom door opened. Steam poured out.
Ethan’s voice followed. “Babe, did you—”
He stopped when he saw me.
For a split second, his face emptied of color. Then it filled with calculation.
“Oh,” he said quickly. “You’re early.”
The woman turned to him, confused. “Honey? You know the realtor?”
I closed my folder slowly and smiled.
“Yes,” I said. “We know each other very well.”
Ethan opened his mouth to speak.
And that’s when I decided not to let him.
I took control of the room before Ethan could.
“Why don’t you finish getting dressed,” I said to him calmly. “This will take a few minutes.”
He hesitated, then nodded, clearly hoping I’d leave before things got worse. He disappeared back into the bathroom.
The woman—Lily, she introduced herself—looked embarrassed. “I’m sorry, this is awkward.”
“No need,” I said gently. “These things happen when paperwork overlaps.”
She relaxed. That told me something important: she had no idea.
