Ken stepped into the house. The clock on the wall ticked slowly, showing that it was ten at night. He had just returned from work—tired, but as calm as ever. 

In the living room, his wife, Mira, was sitting on the sofa. Beside her was another man, shirtless. 

Ken furrowed his brows slightly. The man leaned back comfortably, a sly smile on his lips. Mira looked a little uneasy but said nothing. 

Ken didn't ask. He wasn't shocked. He wasn't even angry. He simply looked at his wife and asked, "Have you eaten?" 

Mira glanced at the man beside her before looking back at her husband. "Not yet." 

Ken nodded slowly. "Let's eat." 

He turned and walked to the kitchen, as if nothing had happened. 

The man suddenly spoke. "Oi, what's wrong with you? Aren't you gonna ask who I am?" 

Ken turned slightly, his expression calm, his voice relaxed. "Do I need to?" 

The man chuckled before leaning back further into the sofa. "You're weird. A normal person would've gone berserk by now. But you… you're way too chill." 

Ken gave a faint smile. "It's a small matter." 

The man grinned. "Your wife feels amazing. Perfect tits, dripping wet, easy to slide in." 

Ken didn't react. He simply reached for a plate and started scooping rice onto it. "You wanna eat too?" 

The man raised an eyebrow. "Seriously? You're inviting me to eat?" 

Ken shrugged. "If you're hungry, eat. I lose nothing." 

Mira looked even more restless. Her eyes darted between Ken and the man, as if trying to read her husband's thoughts. But his face remained blank—as always. 

The man slowly stood up and walked toward the kitchen, still smiling. "You're strange, bro. I like you. Name's Zack." 

Ken merely nodded and handed him a plate. "Eat, Zack." 

The three of them ate in silence. Mira kept her head down, uncertain of what was going on inside her husband's mind. 

After finishing his meal, Ken washed the dishes as usual, then looked at his wife. "Sleep?" 

Mira nodded slowly. 

Without another word, Ken walked into the bedroom, leaving Mira and Zack behind. 

He lay on the bed, taking a deep breath. His eyes stared at the ceiling, his mind empty. 

Tomorrow would be another day. 

Maybe things would change. 

Or maybe they wouldn't.