The frustration brewing within Dexter was clear. He watched as Iris lay beside him, engrossed in her phone, scrolling and laughing, a wide grin lighting up her face. It irritated him. They barely saw each other anymore, and even when they managed to steal a rare moment together, her attention seemed glued to anything with a screen—anything but him.

In the beginning of their affair, they’d been consumed by lust, maybe even love. They shared secrets, leaned on each other emotionally and physically, growing dangerously close. But Iris had always been clear about one thing: their relationship was nothing more than a fling.

All she ever talked about was her...