You come back from a boring business trip with a head full of spreadsheets and hotel porn, expecting your cute newlywed wife to jump on you at the door. Instead she’s napping in the middle of the afternoon, hair messy, phone too close to her hand, and you get this weird little punch in the gut that something’s off. Not “she forgot to feed the cat” off. More like “someone else might have been in this bed” off. She smiles, kisses you, acts sweet, but that tiny delay before she answers simple questions just keeps scratching at your brain. The game takes that small uncomfortable feeling and just keeps poking it, harder and harder, while you try to convince yourself you’re just tired and paranoid. Spoiler: you’re probably not.

The whole thing hangs on that one stupid selfie she sent you while you were away. You know the one. Lingerie that you didn’t even know she owned, tits squeezed up like she’s trying to win a contest, eyes a little too needy. At first you were just horny and you jerked off to it alone in your hotel room. Later, back home, you stare at it again and finally see it: three fingertips on the edge of the frame, some stranger’s hand trying to stay out of view. That tiny detail turns your brain into a crime scene. From there the story slips between your perspective and hers. On your side, you’re walking around the house like a detective in denial, clicking through small things that suddenly feel like clues: the subtle smell on the sheets that is not your cologne, her panties in the laundry that are more lace and less “comfortable wife mode”, her slightly glazed look when you touch her, like she’s comparing you to someone else in her head. On her side, it’s this slow, messy slide from “happy new bride” into “I shouldn’t do this” and then right into “I want him to do it again” while her body language gets looser and her ahegao face shows up more often than you want to admit turns you on a bit too.

Sex scenes aren’t just random porn stops, they sneak up on you. One moment you’re arguing in the kitchen about something stupid, next moment the game cuts to how she spent that same time earlier with another guy, bra on the floor, those big breasts bouncing while she rides him and moans into a pillow so the neighbors won’t hear. Creampies that hit way too raw because you know that same pussy is what you’re supposed to be “making love” to later like some clueless husband. Sometimes you get to fuck her too, and that’s the worst part, because the CG shows her eyes rolling back a bit more when she’s remembering his cock instead of yours. Lingerie that she wears “for you” is actually what he already tore off once. There’s this mystery thread running under everything, not just “who is he” but “how far did she go, and when did it really start” and the more you see her side, the less clean the answer feels. It’s not obedient wife corrupted in one night. It’s little choices, late messages, risky selfies, one kiss that should have stopped but didn’t, and then your whole married life is sitting on the edge of a knife and everyone is pretending not to see the blood. And yeah, the story is kinda linear, but honestly, when you’re watching your own wife slowly turn into someone else’s favorite toy, you don’t feel like you have many choices anyway.