The night after the argument about Lala's laptop, Naila couldn't fall asleep right away, even though her body already felt exhausted. She lay there staring at the ceiling while Ardi, beside her, had already fallen asleep.
Every word her husband had said kept echoing in her mind, especially when Ardi had casually said that he had promised to buy his sister a new laptop using “their money.” Naila knew perfectly well that whenever he said that, he always meant the money she had earned through her own hard work.
By dawn, sleep finally won out over her tangled thoughts. But as usual, life didn't give her time to dwell on her feelings for too long.
The alarm rang, housework waited, and the routine resumed just as it had on every other day. She made breakfast, brewed coffee for Ardi, then cleaned up the kitchen before getting ready to leave for work.
That day wasn't an ordinary one for Naila. On that exact date, she turned another year older.
Ever since she was a child, her birthday had always been special to her—not because of gifts or parties, but because of the simple memories she shared with her father. He had never had much money, but he always tried to make his daughter's birthday feel special.
Sometimes it was nothing more than a slice of bread with a tiny candle on top. Other times, it was a bowl of hot meatballs they ate together while laughing.
“Dad might not be able to give you an expensive gift,” her father often said, “but my daughter's birthday can't just pass by without anything happening.”
Those memories always warmed Naila's heart whenever she thought of them.
As she set breakfast on the dining table, her eyes unconsciously flicked toward her phone several times. There still wasn't a single message from Ardi. She tried to think positively.
Maybe her husband was deliberately waiting for the right moment. Maybe there would be a small surprise when he left for work or came home that evening—something she never expected.
But that hope slowly faded when Ardi came out of the bedroom, ate his breakfast as usual, and got ready for work without showing any sign that he remembered the important date.
“I’m heading out.”
“Okay. Be careful.”
There was no happy birthday. No special smile. No hug or small gesture of attention that she had secretly hoped for all this time.
After the front door closed, Naila remained standing beside the dining table for a while before finally letting out a soft sigh. She tried to convince herself that Ardi had only forgotten because he had a lot on his mind.
At the office, a completely different kind of atmosphere came from the people she had never expected it from. As lunchtime approached, several coworkers suddenly came over carrying a small box of cake.
“Happy birthday, Naila!”
Naila was genuinely shocked. She even stared at them in confusion before finally smiling.
“You remembered?”
“Of course we remembered. The employees’ birthday records are with HR. How could we not know?”
Laughter immediately broke out across the room. Someone sang “Happy Birthday” deliberately off-key while the others clapped along. The celebration was simple, even a little noisy, but for the first time that day, Naila felt appreciated.
She realized something rather sad. People who knew her only as a coworker had still taken the time to remember her birthday, while the person who lived under the same roof with her every day had forgotten it.
That afternoon, she went home carrying the box of cake her coworkers had given her. Along the way, part of her still hoped that Ardi was only pretending to forget. Maybe there would be a simple dinner that night, or at least a belated birthday wish.
But when she opened the front door, that hope shrank again.
The house was empty. Not long afterward, a message came in from Ardi.
“I’ll be home pretty late. An unexpected meeting came up.”
Naila read the message for a few moments before sending a brief reply.
“Okay.”
She put her birthday cake in the refrigerator and spent the night alone.
The television played in the background for company, but her thoughts drifted everywhere. Every now and then, she checked her phone, hoping she had missed a message. But there was nothing.
Meanwhile, several miles from their home, Ardi was sitting in a fairly crowded restaurant.
Across from him, a young woman with long hair smiled as she slowly stirred her drink. They chatted casually about work, everyday life, and various trivial things that made time seem to pass more quickly.
“Aren’t you in a hurry to get home?” the woman asked.
Ardi glanced briefly at his watch and shrugged.
“There’s still time.”
“What if your wife gets mad?”
Ardi gave a quiet laugh.
“Naila never asks many questions.”
The woman smiled as well before continuing with a story that made Ardi laugh again. At a glance, there was nothing particularly special about the meeting, but there was a sense of comfort that made Ardi happy to linger.
When they finally parted in the parking lot, the woman stood quite close as she said goodbye.
The perfume she wore left behind a soft, elegant floral scent—a scent that unknowingly clung faintly to Ardi's shirt.
By the time Ardi arrived home, it was nearly eleven o’clock at night.
“Naila, I’m home.”
“Mm.”
“The meeting ran late.”
“Okay.”
Naila didn't ask many questions. She was too tired to prolong the conversation. A few minutes later, Ardi was sleeping peacefully, while Naila's birthday came to an end without a single birthday wish from her husband.
The next morning, while sorting the dirty clothes for washing, Naila's hand suddenly stopped when she picked up the shirt Ardi had worn the night before.
There was a scent that immediately caught her attention. It was soft, with a sweet floral note—a fragrance clearly different from the cologne her husband usually wore.
At first, she thought she had simply been mistaken. But after lifting the shirt closer, she became increasingly certain that the scent came from women's perfume.
When Ardi came out of the bedroom putting on his shoes, Naila turned toward him.
“Honey, are you wearing new cologne?”
Ardi looked slightly startled by the question.
“New cologne? No.”
Naila raised the shirt that was still in her hand.
“I smell women's perfume.”
It lasted only a fraction of a second, but Naila caught the change in her husband's expression before Ardi answered.
“Maybe it came from the office. There are a lot of women working there.”
The answer sounded reasonable, but for some reason, it felt too quick.
Naila didn't pursue the question. She only nodded slowly and turned her gaze back to the shirt in her hand after Ardi left for work.
Throughout their years of marriage, she had never once doubted her husband. But that morning, for the first time, a question that had never occurred to her before began to trouble her mind.
Was Ardi really working every time he came home late?