Chapter 5: Emma’s Suspicion (0x05ES)

I’m standing outside the door to our apartment, my hand hovering over the knob, the weight of the metal case heavy in my other hand. The rush from the warehouse job is still buzzing under my skin, but now there’s a knot in my stomach that wasn’t there before. I know what’s waiting for me on the other side of that door, and it sure as hell isn’t a warm welcome.

I take a deep breath, trying to shake off the tension, but it’s no use. Emma’s been on edge lately, more than usual, and the fact that I’ve been coming home later and later isn’t helping. She doesn’t know what I’m up to—hell, I don’t even know half the time—but she’s not stupid. She’s suspicious, and suspicion is dangerous.

I twist the knob and push the door open, stepping inside with a forced casualness that I don’t feel. The apartment is dark, save for the faint glow of the TV in the living room. The sound of some late-night talk show drones on, but I know Emma’s not really watching it. She’s waiting for me.

"Jamie?" Her voice cuts through the silence, sharp and cold. She’s sitting on the couch, her arms crossed, the light from the TV casting harsh shadows on her face.

"Hey," I say, trying to keep my tone light. "Didn’t mean to wake you."

"I wasn’t asleep," she snaps, her eyes narrowing as they flick to the case in my hand. "Where the hell have you been?"

"Just…out," I mumble, kicking off my shoes and making my way to the kitchen, hoping to avoid the inevitable confrontation. "Had to clear my head."

"Out?" She scoffs, following me with that look in her eyes—the one that makes me feel like a bug under a magnifying glass. "You’ve been out a lot lately, Jamie. And you’ve been coming back looking…different."

I stiffen at her words, my back to her as I set the case on the kitchen counter. "Different how?"

She steps closer, and I can feel the heat of her stare boring into my back. "You think I don’t notice? The bruises, the cuts. The way you’ve been acting. You think I’m blind?"

I swallow hard, trying to come up with something, anything, to deflect. But she’s not wrong. I’ve been coming home beat up, sore, with that wild look in my eyes that I can’t hide. But I can’t tell her the truth, can’t explain what’s really going on. She wouldn’t understand. Hell, I barely do.

"I’m fine, Emma," I say finally, turning to face her. "Just…going through some stuff. You know how it is."

Her eyes narrow even further, if that’s possible. "Going through some stuff? You think that’s an explanation? Jamie, I’m not stupid. I know you’re hiding something from me."

I grit my teeth, trying to keep my cool. She’s always been like this—always pushing, always needing to be in control. And I’ve always just…let her. But now, with everything that’s happening, I’m not sure how much more I can take.

"It’s nothing, alright?" I snap, the words coming out harsher than I intended. "Just drop it."

She flinches at my tone, but she doesn’t back down. She never does. "Nothing? You’ve been disappearing at all hours, coming back looking like you’ve been in a fight, and you expect me to believe it’s nothing?"

"I’m handling it," I say through gritted teeth. "You don’t need to worry about it."

"Worry?" She laughs, but there’s no humor in it, just that cold, biting edge. "You don’t get it, do you? I’m your wife, Jamie. I have every right to know what’s going on. Or have you forgotten what that means?"

I swallow hard, the tension in the room thickening by the second. This is what she does—turns everything around, makes it about her, about how I’m the one who’s in the wrong. And for years, I’ve just taken it, let her walk all over me because, hell, maybe she’s right. Maybe I’m not good enough, not strong enough to stand up to her.

But now…now there’s this power, this system inside me, pushing me to be more than I’ve ever been. And it’s changing me, in ways I can’t control, can’t explain. I don’t want to drag her into this, don’t want her to see what I’m becoming. But at the same time, I’m sick of being the one who always backs down.

"Maybe I have," I say quietly, and it’s like the words just slip out before I can stop them. "Maybe I’ve forgotten what it means to be married to you, Emma. Because all you ever do is question me, doubt me, like I’m some fucking child who needs to be managed."

Her eyes widen, and for a moment, there’s something like hurt in them. But it’s gone as quickly as it came, replaced by that familiar coldness. "Maybe I wouldn’t have to if you actually told me what’s going on for once."

I shake my head, turning away from her, the case still sitting on the counter like a ticking time bomb. "You wouldn’t understand," I mutter, half to myself. "You wouldn’t believe me if I told you."

"Try me," she snaps, stepping closer, her voice rising. "Because right now, all I’m seeing is my husband sneaking around, hiding things from me. And I’m supposed to just sit here and accept that?"

I can feel my anger bubbling up, the frustration of years of this, of her, building to a boiling point. "Maybe you should," I say, my voice low and dangerous. "Maybe you should just accept that there are things I can’t tell you. Things you don’t need to know."

The silence that follows is deafening. I can see the shock on her face, the way her mouth opens and closes like she’s searching for something to say, something to fight back with. But there’s nothing. For once, she’s at a loss.

I don’t wait for her to recover. I turn on my heel and head for the bedroom, leaving her standing there in the kitchen, stunned and silent. My heart’s pounding, my mind racing with guilt and anger. I know I shouldn’t have said those things, shouldn’t have let her get under my skin like that. But it’s too late now. The damage is done.

As I close the bedroom door behind me, the Rolin system flickers back to life, the blue screen hovering just at the edge of my vision.

*Next mission: High-priority target. Location: Pending.*

I sit on the edge of the bed, running a hand through my hair. My thought’s a tangled mess. I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up—this double life, this lie I’m living. But I also know I can’t stop now. Not when I’m so deep into it.

The system doesn’t care about my problems, about the rift growing between me and Emma. It only cares about the mission, about pushing me further, about seeing how far I can go. And maybe that’s all that matters now. Maybe I’ve already crossed the point of no return.

But even as I try to convince myself of that, there’s a part of me that can’t shake the feeling of dread, of something darker lurking just around the corner. Something that’s going to tear everything apart if I’m not careful.

And deep down, I know it’s only a matter of time before it all comes crashing down.