Detroit: Fedex Worker K!lled Wife After Catching Her Cheating With 2 Men At Motel

…

Dexter put up with it because he couldn’t afford to lose his job.

He had bills to pay, and his mortgage was a heavy burden.

The only bright spot in Dexter’s life was his neighbor, Nenah Johnston.

The 26-year-old girl lived two houses down, and worked at a call center.

They sometimes met in the yard, greeted each other, and exchanged a few words.

Nenah was always friendly and kind, unlike Natalie, who had become cold as ice.

Dexter had no feelings for Nenah.

She was just a pleasant neighbor, nothing more.

But even these brief conversations brought him some relief, reminding him that there were still people in the world capable of simple human kindness.

Natalie had a younger sister, Sophie Carpenter, a 28-year-old woman who worked as a cashier in a supermarket.

Sophie often came to visit them, and Dexter felt that she couldn’t stand him.

Sophie believed that her sister deserved a better husband, someone more successful, more wealthy.

She never missed an opportunity to make a snide remark about Dexter to hint at his failure.

This was Dexter Quinn’s life in the fall of 2023.

A crumbling marriage, a humiliating job, the feeling that life was passing him by and nothing could be changed.

He didn’t know that in a few days his life would collapse completely and nothing would ever be the same again.

The morning began as usual.

The alarm clock rang at 6:00.

Dexter reached out and turned it off.

Natalie was lying next to him, turned away toward the wall.

They left the house at 6.

Dexter got behind the wheel of their old sedan, and started the car.

Natalie settled into the passenger seat and buried her face in her phone.

The screen glowed in the dim light of the cabin as she typed something, and a smile flashed across her face.

Dexter saw it out of the corner of his eye, and something tightened in his chest.

The drive took 20 minutes.

The morning traffic was heavy, but they rode in silence.

Dexter didn’t know what to talk about with his wife.

Every topic seemed dangerous.

Every word could provoke another scandal.

He focused on the road, maneuvering between cars.

The Oasis Spa was located in a two-story building made of glass and light brick.

It looked out of place among the old industrial buildings in the area.

Too clean, too modern, too expensive.

Dexter stopped the car in front of the entrance.

Natalie opened the door, getting ready to get out.

Dexter decided to speak.

Nat, maybe we can talk normally tonight.

No shouting, no accusations, just talk like we used to.

Natalie turned to him.

Her face was written with irritation.

Dexter, I’m late.

We’ll talk later.

Okay.

She got out of the car and slammed the door.

Dexter didn’t drive away right away.

Something made him pause and look at the entrance to the building.

A few seconds later, the doors swung open and Jeremy Flint came out.

Jeremy saw Natalie and smiled broadly.

He stepped toward her, opened his arms, and hugged her.

But it wasn’t a formal colleagueu’s hug.

He pulled Natalie toward him, hugged her waist, and put his hand on her back too low.

The hug lasted a long time.

3 4 5 seconds.

Natalie didn’t pull away.

She smiled at him, said something, and they walked together to the entrance.

Jeremy didn’t take his hand off her waist.

Dexter sat in the car, gripping the steering wheel.

A lump formed in his throat, and hot anger spread through his chest.

He saw them disappear behind the glass doors.

Jeremy leaning toward Natalie, whispering something in her ear and her laughing in response.

Dexter slammed on the gas, pulling out onto the road.

The car jerked forward.

He drove to the FedEx warehouse, trying not to think about what he had just seen, but the thoughts kept coming like annoying flies.

There was something between them.

He knew it.

He could feel it in his gut.

Natalie was lying to him when she said Jeremy was just a friendly boss.

No one hugs their employees the way Jeremy hugged Natalie.

The FedEx warehouse greeted him with the coldness of concrete walls and the smell of machine oil.

Dexter parked in the employee parking lot, grabbed his bag of documents, and went inside.

In the huge room, conveyors hummed.

Workers unloaded trucks and sorted packages.

Dexter walked to his locker, opened it, and took out his tablet to register deliveries.

Quinn, come here immediately.

Dylan Langford’s voice was loud and sharp.

Dexter turned around.

The shift supervisor was standing at his desk in the far corner of the warehouse, his arms crossed over his chest.

Several workers froze, looking in their direction.

Everyone knew that another dressing down was about to begin.

Dexter approached Dylan, trying to keep his face neutral.

I’m listening, Mr.

Langford.

Dylan looked at him with undisguised contempt.

You were 15 minutes late yesterday.

That’s the second time this month.

Do you think the rules don’t apply to you? Or do you think you’re too important to show up on time? Dexter had indeed been late yesterday.

His car wouldn’t start, and he had to fiddle with the battery for half an hour before the engine finally cranked over.

I’m sorry, I had car trouble.

I called the dispatcher and warned him in advance.

All the packages were delivered on time.

There were no complaints.

I don’t care about your car trouble.

Dylan raised his voice so that all the workers in the warehouse could hear him.

Everyone has problems, but normal people know how to plan their time.

If you can’t get to work on time, then you’re not doing your job.

Maybe you should look for something easier, like sweeping the streets with a broom like the homeless.

Several people nearby smirked.

Dexter felt the blood rush to his face, his hands clenching into fists.

He wanted to punch Dylan, wipe that smug smile off his face, but he couldn’t afford to do that.

He needed this job too much.

Bills, mortgage, groceries, all of that required money.

“It won’t happen again,” Dexter said as calmly as he could.

“We’ll see about that.

” Dylan leaned back in his chair, clearly enjoying the moment.

“Now get out of here and do your job.

And if there’s even one complaint about you from customers today, don’t bother coming in tomorrow.

Got it? Understood.

Dexter turned and walked away, feeling the eyes of the other workers on him.

Some sympathized, some were indifferent, some were glad it wasn’t them.

Dexter took the keys to the van, loaded the packages according to the list, and drove out of the warehouse.

He drove around Detroit all day.

Industrial areas with abandoned factories, residential neighborhoods with dilapidated houses, office buildings in the center.

Dexter climbed stairs, carried heavy boxes, knocked on doors, smiled at customers, and got signatures on his tablet.

The work was automatic, honed to the smallest detail.

But his mind was preoccupied with something else entirely.

He thought about Natalie, about how Jeremy had hugged her that morning, about how she had smiled back at him, about how cold she had become at home, and how lively she seemed at work.

Dexter recalled the last few months, Natalie’s tardiness at work, her constant irritability, how she had distanced herself from him in bed.

It all came together into one picture, and that picture was painful.

Dexter returned to the warehouse at 6:00 in the evening.

He returned the van, filled out the delivery reports, and gave the keys to the dispatcher.

Dylan Langford sat in his corner and didn’t even look at Dexter.

Dexter went out to the parking lot and got into his car.

He sat there for a few minutes, his hands on the steering wheel, staring into space.

He didn’t want to go home.

He knew that another silence, another cold war, awaited him there.

But he had no choice.

Dexter started the car and drove through the city.

He reached his neighborhood, turned onto a street lined with identical houses with peeling paint and crooked fences.

He parked in front of his house and got out of the car.

He climbed the porch steps and unlocked the door.

The house smelled like something was being heated in the microwave.

Natalie was in the kitchen standing at the stove stirring something in a pot.

She turned around when Dexter entered, but there was no warmth or joy on her face, only fatigue and irritation.

Dexter took off his jacket and hung it on a hook by the door.

He walked into the kitchen and sat down at the table.

He knew he had to talk to her.

He had to ask her directly what was going on between her and Jeremy.

He couldn’t keep quiet any longer.

Nat, we need to have a serious talk.

Natalie put the pot on the table and sat down across from him.

Her gaze was wary.

About what? Dexter took a deep breath.

About your boss.

About Jeremy Flint.

Natalie’s face hardened.

What exactly about him? About what’s going on between you two? I saw how he greeted you this morning.

It wasn’t professional, Natalie.

He hugged you in a way that men don’t hug their employees.

And it’s not the first time.

I see how he looks at you, how you look at him.

Natalie crossed her arms over her chest and her voice turned cold.

Are you serious? Are you starting with your paranoia again? Dexter, Jeremy is my boss.

He’s a friendly guy who treats his employees well.

There’s nothing between us, and there never has been.

Friendly? Dexter felt himself boiling inside.

Natalie, I’m not blind.

I saw how he held you.

His arm was around your waist.

He was pulling you close to him.

That’s not just friendship.

It’s something more.

Are you listening to yourself? Natalie raised her voice.

You’re accusing me of something based on the fact that my boss hugged me.

You’re completely insane.

You’re paranoid, Dexter.

I’m just asking you.

Dexter stood up from the table not to flirt with him for the sake of our marriage, for the sake of what we had.

Is that so hard? Natalie laughed, but it was a cold, bitter laugh.

Flirt.

God, what are you even talking about? Dexter, the problem isn’t Jeremy.

The problem is you.

You can’t accept that I work in a normal place where I’m treated with respect.

You’re angry because there are successful people there and you’re a nobody.

The words hit Dexter harder than any physical blow.

What did you say? I told the truth.

Natalie stood up, her face contorted with rage and contempt.

You’re a loser, Dexter.

You’ve been driving a truck and delivering packages for 12 years.

You have no ambition, no goals, nothing.

We live in this dump because you can’t earn a decent living.

Maybe it’s time to take a look at yourself and admit that you’ve achieved nothing in life.

I work.

Dexter’s voice trembled.

I work every day to pay the bills, to put a roof over our heads, to so what? Natalie interrupted him.

So we can barely make ends meet.

So I can’t buy myself decent clothes.

So we can’t go on vacation like normal people.

You know what, Dexter? There really is nothing between me and Jeremy.

But if there were, it wouldn’t be my fault because you’re a pathetic loser who can’t give me anything.

She grabbed her plate and left the kitchen, stomping loudly up the stairs.

A second later, the bedroom door slammed shut.

Dexter stood alone in the middle of the kitchen.

He felt numb inside.

Natalie’s words echoed in his head.

Loser.

Pathetic.

Achieved nothing.

She really thinks that she despises him.

He sank into a chair and buried his head in his hands.

The house was silent except for the ticking of the old clock on the wall.

Dexter sat there until it was completely dark outside.

He knew that something had broken between them completely and irrevocably.

He knew that Natalie was lying when she said there was nothing between her and Jeremy.

He could see it in her eyes, hear it in her voice, but he didn’t know what to do next.

The next day, Dexter woke up with a heavy head and a bitter taste in his mouth.

Natalie had already gotten up and gone to the bathroom without saying a word to him.

He lay there staring at the ceiling, remembering yesterday’s conversation, her words about him being a loser.

Those words stuck in his head like a splinter that couldn’t be pulled out.

They drove to work in complete silence.

Natalie didn’t even look at him when she got out of the car at the spa.

Jeremy Flint came out to greet her again and again.

His embrace was too long, too intimate.

Dexter gripped the steering wheel as he watched them, but said nothing.

What was the point? She would deny it anyway.

At the warehouse, Dylan Langford found another reason to pick on him.

Dexter was 3 minutes late, traffic, but his boss gave him an earful in front of the whole warehouse, calling him irresponsible and useless.

Dexter stood there clenching his teeth and saying nothing.

What could he say? What could he do? He needed the job.

He had bills to pay and he couldn’t afford to lose his temper.

He spent the whole day delivering packages, mechanically doing his job.

He drove up to houses, climbed stairs, rang doorbells, and collected signatures.

Autopilot.

His thoughts were far away.

at the spa where Natalie worked, where Jeremy Flint was probably sitting next to her in the office right now, smiling at her, saying something that made her laugh.

Dexter didn’t know for sure if there was anything between them, but the suspicion ate away at him like acid.

He finished his route by 5 in the evening, returned to the warehouse, handed in the van and his reports.

Dylan didn’t even look at him.

Dexter went out to the parking lot, got into his car, and just sat there for a while with his hands on the steering wheel.

He didn’t want to go home.

He knew that coldness and silence awaited him there, or worse, another scandal.

But there was nowhere else to go.

He started the car and drove through the city.

Detroit was gloomy in the evening.

Some of the street lights weren’t working.

Groups of teenagers loitered on the sidewalks, and shouts and barking dogs could be heard from the backyards.

Dexter turned onto his street, driving past a row of identical houses with peeling paint on the facades and crooked fences.

He was already approaching his house when he saw his neighbor.

Nenah Johnston lived two houses down, a 26-year-old black woman who worked at some call center and often came home late at night.

Dexter had seen her several times when he took out the trash or worked on his car in the yard.

They would say hello, sometimes exchanging a few words about the weather or the neighborhood.

Now she was walking down the sidewalk carrying a large cardboard box.

The box was obviously heavy.

Nah was holding it with both hands and her face was strained from the effort.

Dexter parked his car at his house and got out, intending to walk to the porch, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw Nenah approaching her house.

She was climbing the porch steps when she suddenly stumbled.

The box slipped from her hands, crashed onto the steps, and Nah herself fell, hitting her knee on the concrete edge.

Dexter rushed to her without hesitation.

“Hey, are you okay?” Nah sat on the steps, holding her knee.

Her jeans were torn, and through the hole, she could see scraped skin oozing blood.

The girl’s face was contorted with pain.

I Yes, I think so,” she whispered, but her voice was trembling.

Dexter crouched down next to her and carefully examined the wound.

Her knee was badly scraped and the blood was flowing quite profusely.

“That looks nasty.

We need to treat it.

Do you have a first aid kit at home?” Nah nodded, biting her lip.

“Yes, in the kitchen, but I it hurts to stand up.

Let me help you,” Dexter said, standing up and offering her his hand.

Nah tried to stand up, leaning on his arm, but when she tried to step on her injured leg, she gasped in pain and almost fell again.

“Wait!” Dexter held her back.

“Should we call an ambulance?” “No, no, don’t.

” Nah shook her head.

“It’s just a scrape.

I don’t want to bother them with such nonsense.

It’s expensive.

I don’t have good insurance.

” “Okay, then I’ll carry you.

Where are your keys? Nah took the keys out of her jacket pocket and handed them to him.

Dexter opened the door, then came back to her, bent down, and carefully picked her up.

She was light, almost weightless.

Nah gasped in surprise, and wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Are you sure? It’s hard for you.

It’s okay.

” Dexter carried her into the house and walked down the narrow hallway to the kitchen.

The house was small, similar to his own.

The same layout, the same old wallpaper, the same musty smell.

He carefully lowered Nah onto a chair at the kitchen table.

Where’s the first aid kit? In the cabinet above the sink, Nah pointed, wincing in pain.

Dexter opened the cabinet and took out a white box with a red cross on it.

Inside were bandages, plasters, hydrogen peroxide, and some ointments.

He brought the first aid kit to the table and crouched down in front of Nah.

This is going to hurt a little, but we need to clean the wound.

He carefully rolled up the torn leg of her jeans, exposing the abrasion completely.

Her knee was scraped over an area the size of a palm, and the blood had already begun to clot around the edges, but it was still oozing in the center.

Dexter moistened a cotton swab with hydrogen peroxide and carefully began to clean the wound.

Nah hissed, clutching the armrests of the chair, but did not move away.

Hang in there.

It’s almost done.

Dexter worked carefully, trying not to cause unnecessary pain.

He cleaned the wound of dirt and blood, then took out a large bandage and stuck it on the damaged area.

Done.

Try not to get your knee wet or disturb it for a couple of days.

If it gets worse, see a doctor.

Nah looked at him gratefully, tears glistening in her eyes, either from pain or relief.

Thank you so much.

I really don’t know what I would have done without you.

You’re such a kind person, Dexter.

He shrugged awkwardly.

It’s nothing.

Anyone would have done the same.

Are you sure you’ll be okay? Do you need anything else? No, I’m fine.

Really? Nah smiled through the pain.

I’ll sit here for a while, then try to get to the sofa.

You’ve already done so much for me.

Dexter nodded and got up from his knees.

He washed his hands in the sink and dried them with a paper towel.

If you need anything, just knock.

We’re neighbors.

Thank you.

Nah smiled again, and it was a warm, sincere smile.

Dexter left her house, closing the door behind him.

It was already completely dark and the street lights gave off a dim yellowish light.

He walked along the sidewalk to his house, climbed the porch steps, and opened the door.

The light was on in the living room.

Dexter entered and froze.

Natalie and her sister Sophie were sitting at the table.

Sophie had never liked Dexter, considered him unworthy of her sister, and never hid it.

Now both women were looking at him with such expressions that Dexter immediately understood something was wrong.

“Where have you been?” Natalie’s voice was icy.

“I just got home from work.

Why?” “Don’t lie to me,” Natalie said, rising from the table and crossing her arms over her chest.

“We saw everything.

We were standing at the window and saw everything.

” Dexter looked at her confused.

“What did you see? You carrying that girl into her house? Natalie shouted, her face contorted with rage.

You carried her like a bride.

How dare you? Dexter blinked, trying to understand what she was talking about.

Then it dawned on him.

Nah, the neighbor.

Natalie, what are you talking about? She fell and hurt her knee.

I just helped her.

Helped her.

Sophie stood up too, coming closer, her voice full of contempt.

Do you seriously think we’re that stupid? You carry some [ __ ] in your arms, go into her house, sit there for half an hour, and say you were just helping her? She fell.

Dexter raised his voice, feeling anger boiling up inside him.

She scraped her knee.

It hurt to walk.

I carried her into the house and treated the wound.

That’s all.

Really? Natalie came closer, her face contorted with anger and pain.

Yesterday you accused me of flirting with Jeremy even though there’s nothing between us and here you are carrying some girl around.

Do you think I don’t see how you look at her? How you smile at her when you meet her in the yard? I’m just saying hello to my neighbor.

Dexter felt the ground slipping away from under his feet.

The situation was becoming absurd.

Natalie listened to me.

There’s nothing between Nenah and me.

She fell.

I helped her up.

That’s all.

Any normal person would have done the same thing.

You’re lying.

Sophie stood next to her sister and they looked at him like a traitor.

Normal people don’t carry other people’s women in their arms.

Normal people call an ambulance.

But of course, you couldn’t pass up the chance to grope some young fool.

Go to hell.

Dexter couldn’t take it anymore.

You’re not in your own house, Sophie.

This is our house, and you have no right to come here and interrogate me.

Don’t you dare talk to my sister like that.

Natalie stepped forward, her eyes burning with fire.

Sophie is right.

You’re cheating on me with that neighbor and then you have the nerve to accuse me.

You’re a pathetic hypocrite, Dexter.

Dexter looked at his wife and suddenly realized that it was all pointless.

She wasn’t listening to him.

She didn’t want to listen.

She had already decided that he was guilty and nothing would change her mind.

“You know what, Natalie,” he said quietly, but there was bitterness in his voice.

“Think what you want.

I don’t care anymore.

” He turned and walked to the door.

“Where are you going?” Natalie called after him.

“We’re not done talking.

” “I’m done,” Dexter said over his shoulder, slamming the door behind him.

He stepped outside, the cold November air hitting his face.

Dexter walked down the sidewalk to his car, got behind the wheel, and started the engine.

He needed to get away from here, at least for a little while.

He couldn’t be in the same house as Natalie and her sister.

Couldn’t listen to their accusations.

Dexter drove through the city without really thinking about where he was going.

20 minutes later, he stopped at a bar on the outskirts, a dirty place with a flashing neon sign where workers usually gathered after their shift.

Dexter went inside.

It smelled of beer, tobacco, and sweat.

Behind the bar stood the bartender, an elderly man with gray hair and an indifferent face.

In the corner sat Bradley Hendris, Dexter’s friend, a 35-year-old black man with broad shoulders and a crew cut.

Bradley worked as a mechanic at a nearby auto repair shop.

They had known each other since school, and although life had taken them in different directions, they sometimes met up to have a few beers and talk.

Dexter walked over to the table and sat down in a chair across from his friend.

“Hi, Brad.

” Bradley looked at him and immediately knew something was wrong.

Hi, you look like [ __ ] What happened? Dexter waved to the bartender and ordered a whiskey.

When the bartender brought the glass, he downed it in one gulp and grimaced at the burning taste.

“Natalie,” he said briefly.

“Again?” Bradley sighed.

“Tell me.

” and Dexter told him everything.

About how Jeremy Flint greets Natalie in the mornings, hugging her for too long.

About how she denies there’s anything between them, but looks at Dexter with contempt.

About how he helped his neighbor Nina and Natalie made a scene accusing him of cheating.

About how his boss humiliates him at work.

About how he feels cornered and doesn’t know what to do.

Bradley listened silently, nodding occasionally.

When Dexter finished, he ordered another glass of whiskey for both of them.

“You know what? I’m going to tell you,” Bradley said, looking his friend in the eye.

“You’re too good, Dex.

You put up with all this crap because you don’t want to lose Natalie.

But she’s already lost.

If she’s really sleeping with this Jeremy guy, and I think she is, judging by what you’re telling me, then your marriage is already over.

You just don’t want to admit it yet.

” Dexter lowered his head.

“Maybe you’re right.

But what am I supposed to do? Get a divorce? With what money? I can’t even afford a lawyer.

And besides, I love her.

Or I did.

Hell, I don’t know anymore.

Sometimes love isn’t enough, Bradley said.

Sometimes you just have to let go and move on.

They sat in the bar for another hour, drinking a few more glasses.

Dexter felt the alcohol spreading through his body, numbing the pain.

He talked and talked, pouring out his soul while Bradley listened, occasionally interjecting with brief comments.

Finally, Bradley glanced at his watch.

I got to go, Dex.

I have an early shift tomorrow.

You should go home, too.

Dexter nodded and paid both bills.

They went outside.

Bradley patted his friend on the shoulder.

Hang in there, buddy.

Everything will be fine someday.

Thanks, Brad.

Dexter hugged his friend, then got into his car.

He drove home slowly, trying not to exceed the speed limit.

His head was spinning from the alcohol, but he was still able to drive.

He reached his neighborhood and parked outside his house.

When he got out of the car, he staggered, grabbing the door for support.

The alcohol had hit him harder than he thought.

Dexter climbed the porch steps and tried to open the door with his key, but his hands were shaking and he couldn’t get the key into the lock.

He knocked on the door.

Natalie, open up.

A minute later, the door swung open.

Natalie stood in the doorway in her bathrobe, her face cold and hard.

You’re drunk.

Maybe.

Dexter tried to walk past her, but she didn’t move.

You’re not coming in like that.

What? Dexter looked at her in confusion.

This is my house, Natalie.

I live here.

Not like this.

She crossed her arms over her chest.

You’re drunk as a skunk.

You come home in the middle of the night and you think I’m going to let you in? Go sleep in your car.

Natalie, are you kidding me? Dexter felt anger flaring up inside him again.

I went out drinking because you made a huge scene out of nothing.

You accused me of something I didn’t do.

I know what you did, she hissed.

And I know you’re a pathetic loser who can’t provide for his family, can’t find a decent job, and now you’re chasing after the neighbors.

You’re disgusting, Dexter.

She slammed the door in his face.

Dexter heard the lock click.

He stood on the porch, unable to believe what was happening.

His own wife had locked him out.

He knocked on the door again, but there was no answer.

Dexter sat down on the top step of the porch, leaning his back against the door.

It was a cold November night and the wind was biting, but he didn’t care.

He sat there for a few minutes, staring into the darkness.

Then he heard footsteps.

He turned and saw Nah.

She was limping, leaning on a cane wrapped in a thick blanket.

She approached the porch and looked at him with sympathy.

Dexter, what are you doing here? He tried to smile, but it came out pitiful.

My wife won’t let me in the house.

She says I’m drunk.

Nah frowned.

Is it because of me? Because you helped me? Don’t worry.

Dexter waved his hand.

It’s not your fault.

It’s just things aren’t going well between my wife and me.

Nah stood there for a moment, then said, “Wait here a minute.

” She turned and limped toward her house.

Dexter watched her go, not understanding what she was up to.

A few minutes later, Nenah returned with a large mug of steaming coffee.

Here, hot coffee.

It’ll warm you up a little.

Dexter took the mug, and the heat burned his fingers pleasantly.

Thank you.

You’re very kind.

You’re the kind one.

Nah smiled sadly.

I’m sorry that I’m causing you problems.

I had problems before you.

Dexter took a sip of coffee.

The hot liquid warmed him from the inside.

It’s just that now they’ve gotten worse.

Nah paused, then said, “If you want, you can spend the night on my couch.

You shouldn’t be sitting outside in this cold.

” Dexter shook his head.

“No, thank you.

That would only make things worse.

I’ll manage somehow.

” Nah nodded, turned around, and walked to her house.

Dexter finished his coffee, and put the mug on the step.

His head cleared a little.

He got up and went to the living room window.

The window was old and the frame didn’t close properly.

He had been meaning to fix it for a long time, but never got around to it.

Dexter pried the frame open from the bottom and pushed.

The window gave way and opened.

He climbed over the windowsill and found himself inside the house.

The living room was dark and quiet.

Dexter went to the kitchen, poured himself some water, and drank it in one gulp.

Then he went upstairs.

The bedroom door was closed.

He tried to open it.

It was locked.

Natalie had locked herself in the bedroom.

Dexter sighed and went into the guest room where there was an old sofa.

He lay down without undressing and pulled a blanket over himself.

His head was spinning and his chest hurt.

He closed his eyes and his last thought before falling into a restless sleep was that his life was finally falling apart.

Dexter woke up on the sofa in the guest room with a heavy head and a dry mouth.

Sunlight streamed through the old curtains, stinging his eyes.

He lay there for a few minutes, staring at the ceiling, remembering the previous day.

his neighbor Nah, whom he had helped, the scandal with Natalie and Sophie, the bar with Bradley, the way his wife had refused to let him into the house.

He got up from the sofa and went to the bathroom.

He looked at himself in the mirror.

His face was puffy, his eyes red from lack of sleep and the alcohol he had drunk the night before.

Dexter washed his face with cold water and shaved.

His head was splitting, but he had to get ready for work.

When he went down to the kitchen, Natalie was already there.

She was standing by the coffee maker, dressed in a strict black dress, her hair braided into neat plats.

“She didn’t even look at him when he came in.

” Dexter poured himself some water from the tap and drank it in one gulp.

“I have to go to work,” Natalie said coldly.

“Are you going to drive me or not?” “I’ll drive you,” Dexter replied curtly.

They left the house in tense silence.

They got into the car and Dexter started the engine.

They drove in silence.

Natalie looked out the window.

Dexter gripped the steering wheel.

The air in the car was heavy, as if a storm were brewing.

When they pulled up to the Oasis Spa, Dexter stopped the car in front of the entrance.

Natalie reached for the door handle, but then Jeremy Flint came out of the building.

He was wearing a dark blue suit, a crisp white shirt, and a perfectly tied tie.

When he saw Natalie, he smiled broadly and headed for the car.

Natalie got out and Jeremy immediately hugged her.

It wasn’t a formal hug like the kind you give a colleague who has come to work.

He pulled her close, put his hands on her waist, and held her for a few long seconds.

Natalie hugged him back and smiled.

Dexter saw it all through the windshield, and something inside him clicked.

He opened the car door and got out.

“Good morning,” Dexter said, addressing Jeremy.

Jeremy turned around, still with his arms around Natalie’s waist.

A look of surprise flashed across his face, then a slight smirk.

Oh, good morning, Mr.

Quinn.

I didn’t expect you to come out and say hello.

Dexter walked closer, stopping a meter away from them.

Natalie pulled away from Jeremy, her face wary.

I just thought I should clarify something, Dexter said, looking directly at Jeremy.

You see, Mr.

Flint, Natalie is my wife, and I think that hugs in the morning seem a little too friendly for a boss and an employee.

Maybe we should keep our hands to ourselves at work.

” Jeremy smirked, crossing his arms over his chest.

His eyes twinkled with amusement.

“Mr.

Quinn, we have a very friendly atmosphere at Oasis.

We treat our employees like family.

Natalie is a valuable member of our team and I’m always happy to see her.

I hope that’s not a problem for you.

His words were polite, but his tone was mocking.

Dexter clenched his fists.

The problem is that you’re being too familiar with my wife, and I want you to stop.

Jeremy laughed quietly and shook his head.

I understand your concern, Mr.

Quinn, but you know, instead of coming here and making a scene, maybe you should think about how to make your wife happy at home.

Maybe then she won’t be so happy to see other people at work.

The words were like a slap in the face.

Dexter felt the blood rush to his head, his hands reaching forward of their own accord.

He wanted to grab Jeremy by the tie, punch him, wipe that smug smile off his face.

But Natalie stepped between them.

Dexter, stop it,” she shouted.

“What are you doing? Jeremy is my boss.

You can’t talk to him like that.

I’m talking to him the way he deserves.

” Dexter hissed, keeping his eyes on Jeremy.

“He’s crossing the line, Natalie.

And you can see that perfectly well.

” Jeremy raised his hands in a consiliatory gesture, but the smile remained on his face.

“Listen, Mr.

Quinn, I don’t want any conflict, but if you have problems in your marriage, that’s your problem, not mine.

Natalie comes to work, does her job perfectly, and I value her as a professional.

If you don’t like it, maybe the problem is with you, not me.

Dexter took a step forward, but Natalie pushed him in the chest.

“Get out!” she shouted.

“Get out of here right now.

You’re embarrassing me.

” Dexter looked at his wife.

There was anger in her eyes, but not at Jeremy, at him.

She was defending her boss, not her husband.

Dexter realized he had lost this battle before it even began.

He turned around, got into his car, and stepped hard on the gas.

In the rear view mirror, he saw Jeremy put his arm around Natalie’s shoulder as they walked together toward the building entrance.

Dexter punched the steering wheel so hard that his hand shot with pain.

He arrived at the FedEx warehouse angry and agitated.

He parked, got out of the car, and slammed the door.

He went inside the warehouse and walked to his locker.

The workday was just beginning, but he already felt exhausted.

Quinn.

Dylan Langford’s voice echoed throughout the warehouse.

Come here.

Dexter closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

The last thing he needed was another humiliation.

He walked over to his boss’s desk.

Dylan was sitting back in his chair, looking at Dexter with ill-concealed pleasure.

“Listen carefully, Quinn,” Dylan began loudly so that all the workers around could hear.

“Yesterday, I received a complaint from a customer, Mrs.

Harris from Clark Street.

She said, “You left a package at her door and left without even waiting for a signature.

Is that true?” Dexter frowned, remembering yesterday.

No, that’s not true.

I rang the doorbell three times, but no one answered.

I left a notice in the mailbox as instructed.

Liar.

Dylan slammed his palm on the table.

Mrs.

Harris was home all day and didn’t receive any notice.

You were negligent in your work and now I have to clean up your mess.

I followed the instructions, Dexter said, trying to remain calm.

If she didn’t hear the doorbell, that’s not my problem.

Dylan stood up from the table and moved closer.

He was a head shorter than Dexter, but he made up for it with aggression.

You know what you are, Quinn.

His voice was full of venom.

You’re a mangy dog who thinks he’s important, but you’re nobody.

You carry boxes, and that’s all you’re good for, and even that you do badly.

The workers around them fell silent, listening.

Some turned away, not wanting to witness it.

Others watched with curiosity.

Dexter stood with his fists clenched so tightly that his nails dug into his palms.

“I do my job well,” he said through gritted teeth.

“You’re doing it badly,” Dylan shouted.

“And if it weren’t for the shortage of people, I would have kicked you out of here a month ago.

Do you understand that no one needs you here? That you could be replaced by any homeless person off the street?” Dexter felt everything inside him boil over.

He took a step forward, looming over Dylan.

Dylan recoiled for a moment, but then grinned.

“What? You want to hit me?” Dylan asked mockingly.

“Go ahead, try it, and you can pack your things right away.

One move, Quinn, and you’re out of here without severance pay.

” Dexter stood motionless.

Every cell in his body screamed to hit this man to wipe the smile off his face, but he couldn’t.

Work, money, bills, mortgage, all of it held him in place like chains.

“I’m not going to hit you,” Dexter said quietly.

“That’s a good boy,” Dylan patted him on the shoulder patronizingly.

“Now get back on your route, and if I get one more complaint about you, I’ll personally see to it that you’re fired.

” Got it? Got it.

Dexter turned and walked away.

His hands trembled with suppressed rage, his temples throbbed.

He took the keys to the van, loaded the packages, and drove away from the warehouse without looking back.

He worked on autopilot all day, addresses, stairs, doors, signatures, mechanical movements, an empty gaze, his thoughts somewhere far away.

He thought about Jeremy, about how he had laughed at him, about Natalie who had sided with the boss, about Dylan who had humiliated him in front of the whole warehouse, about how his life had turned into a neverending nightmare with no way out.

Dexter returned home at 6:00 in the evening.

He parked outside the house and got out of the car.

His body achd with fatigue.

His head felt heavy.

He climbed the steps to the porch and opened the door.

Natalie was at home.

She was sitting on the sofa in the living room looking at her phone.

When Dexter entered, she looked up, her face hardening.

“We need to talk,” she said coldly.

Dexter took off his jacket and hung it on a hook.

“I’m listening.

” Natalie got up from the sofa and crossed her arms over her chest.

“You embarrassed me in front of Jeremy today.

You came to my work and were rude to my boss.

Do you even understand what you’ve done? Dexter looked at her wearily.

I told him to keep his hands to himself.

He was hugging you like you were lovers, Natalie.

Any normal husband would have done the same thing.

He wasn’t hugging me like a lover, Natalie shouted.

He was greeting me.

That’s normal.

People greet each other.

No, they don’t.

Dexter shook his head.

That’s not how bosses greet their subordinates.

You’re sick in the head.

Natalie moved closer, pointing her finger at his chest.

You’re creating problems where there aren’t any.

There’s nothing between Jeremy and me.

Nothing.

How many times do I have to tell you that? Until you start telling the truth, Dexter replied.

Natalie laughed maliciously.

The truth? You want the truth? Fine.

The truth is that you’re a pathetic paranoid who can’t accept that his wife has a normal job and a normal boss.

And you know what else is true? If anyone here is cheating, it’s you.

Dexter looked at her blankly.

What? Don’t play dumb.

Natalie pointed toward the window.

You and your neighbor, Nenah.

You carried her in your arms.

You went into her house.

You sat with her in the kitchen.

And yesterday when I didn’t let you into the house, she came out to you with coffee like a caring lover.

Dexter couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

Natalie, are you crazy? Nah is just a neighbor.

I helped her when she fell and hurt herself.

There’s nothing between us.

That’s exactly what you tell me about Jeremy.

Natalie shouted.

There’s nothing between you.

But I see how you look at her.

I see how she looks at you.

Maybe you’re having an affair, Dexter.

Maybe you’re accusing me to divert suspicion from yourself.

Dexter stood there unable to say a word.

The situation was becoming absurd.

Natalie was accusing him of something that wasn’t true to justify what she was doing.

“You’re turning everything upside down,” he said quietly.

“I know what you’re doing.

You’re trying to make me feel guilty for something you’re guilty of, but it won’t work, Natalie.

I’m not stupid.

” “No, you are a fool,” she hissed.

“A fool who is destroying his own marriage with his paranoia.

I’m tired of it.

Tired of explaining myself.

Tired of proving that I’m not doing what I’m not doing.

Maybe I really should have an affair with Jeremy since you believe I’m having one anyway.

The words hung in the air, heavy and poisonous.

Dexter looked at his wife and saw a stranger.

The woman who had once been his love, his rock, his home.

But now she was alien, hostile, full of contempt.

“Do whatever you want,” Dexter said wearily.

“I don’t care anymore.

He turned and went upstairs to the guest room.

Natalie shouted something after him, but he didn’t listen.

He closed the door behind him, lay down on the sofa, and closed his eyes.

The whole world was falling apart around him, and he didn’t know how to stop it.

Dexter hardly slept that night.

He lay on the sofa in the guest room, staring at the dark ceiling, replaying yesterday’s events in his head.

Natalie’s words echoed in his ears like a broken record.

Maybe I really should have an affair with Jeremy.

Those words burned inside him, eating away at the last remnants of hope that their marriage could still be saved.

When the alarm went off at 6:00 in the morning, Dexter got up with a heavy head.

He washed his face with cold water, shaved, and put on his uniform.

He went down to the kitchen.

Natalie was already there, dressed in a light gray dress.

her hair pulled back in a high ponytail.

She poured herself some coffee without looking at him.

“I have to go to work,” she said emotionlessly.

“I’m ready,” Dexter replied just as dryly.

They left the house in complete silence.

They got into the car.

When they pulled up to the Oasis Spa, Dexter stopped in front of the entrance.

Natalie reached for the door handle, but at that moment, Jeremy Flint came out of the building.

He was wearing a light colored suit and had a broad smile on his face.

When he saw Natalie, he headed straight for the car.

Natalie got out and Jeremy immediately hugged her.

This time, the hug was even more intimate than before.

He pulled her close, pressing himself against her so tightly that there was no space between them.

Natalie hugged him back, putting her arms around his shoulders.

They stood like that for a few seconds, too close, too intimate.

Something inside Dexter snapped.

He threw open the car door, jumped out, and stroed quickly toward them.

Jeremy and Natalie had just begun to pull away from each other when Dexter was beside them.

“Take your hands off her,” Dexter growled, grabbing Jeremy by the shoulder and turning him toward him.

Jeremy looked at him with surprise, which quickly turned to mockery.

“Oh, Mr.

Quinn, you again.

Listen, we already discussed this yesterday.

” Dexter didn’t let him finish.

He swung and punched Jeremy in the face.

The blow was sharp and strong, containing all the anger of the last few days.

Jeremy staggered, clutched his jaw, and shock was written all over his face.

Blood flowed from his split lip.

You hit me, Jeremy whispered, unable to believe it.

You just hit me.

I told you to stay away from my wife, Dexter shouted, breathing heavily.

Natalie screamed, but Dexter ignored her.

He stared at Jeremy, and everything that had built up over the last few days spilled out.

All the pain, all the rage, all the humiliation.

Jeremy wiped the blood from his lip, looked at his palm, then shifted his gaze to Dexter.

There was no longer any mockery in his eyes.

There was cold rage.

“Big mistake, buddy,” Jeremy said quietly.

He stepped forward and punched Dexter in the stomach.

The punch was professional, precise, knocking all the air out of his lungs.

Dexter doubled over, gasping for air, but Jeremy didn’t stop.

He punched him again in the face with his knuckles right into his cheekbone.

Dexter felt something crack inside.

He fell to one knee.

“Dexter!” Natalie screamed from somewhere far away.

Jeremy grabbed Dexter by the collar of his shirt, pulled him toward him, and punched him again, this time in the jaw.

The world exploded in white flashes of pain.

Dexter fell to the asphalt.

Blood flowed from his nose and broken lip, and his left eye began to swell shut.

Jeremy stood over him, breathing heavily, rubbing his knuckles.

His suit was wrinkled, and there was a blood stain on his white shirt.

“If you touch me again,” Jeremy said coldly, I’ll break every bone in your body.

“Got it.

” Dexter lay on the asphalt, unable to respond.

His whole body achd, and there was a metallic taste of blood in his mouth.

He saw Natalie run up to Jeremy and grab his arm.

Jeremy, are you okay? My god, your lip is split.

She took a napkin out of her bag, pressed it to his lip, and looked at his face with concern.

Jeremy smiled weakly at her and stroked her cheek.

“It’s okay, sweetheart.

Don’t worry.

Only then did Natalie turn to Dexter, who was lying on the ground.

But there was no sympathy in her eyes.

There was only rage and contempt.

“Are you happy?” she shouted.

“Are you happy with what you’ve done? You hit my boss.

You attacked him for no reason.

” Dexter tried to lift himself up on his elbow and spat out blood.

Without reason, he croked.

He was hugging you like shut up.

Natalie interrupted him.

Just shut up, Dexter.

You’re sick.

You’re crazy.

Jeremy is right.

You’re pathetic.

You’re aggressive.

And I don’t want to see you anymore.

She turned, took Jeremy by the arm, and led him to the entrance of the building.

Dexter lay on the cold asphalt, watching them go.

They disappeared behind the glass doors, and he was left alone.

A few minutes later, Dexter was able to get up.

His body achd, his face burned.

He walked to his car, holding his side, and got behind the wheel.

He looked at himself in the rear view mirror.

His left eye was almost closed from swelling.

His lip was cut and blood was oozing from his nose.

He took an old rag out of the glove compartment and held it to his nose.

Dexter started the car and drove to work.

His head was spinning and his temples were throbbing, but he couldn’t not show up.

Getting fired was the last thing he could afford right now.

He parked at the FedEx warehouse, got out of the car, and struggled to keep from groaning.

Every step sent through his ribs.

Dexter walked into the warehouse, and immediately felt the worker’s eyes on him.

They turned around, looked at his battered face, and exchanged glances.

Quinn.

Dylan Langford’s voice rang out.

Come here.

Dexter slowly approached his boss’s desk.

Dylan was sitting back in his chair, and when he saw Dexter’s face, he burst out laughing.

What happened to you? Did a truck run you over? Several workers nearby smirked.

Dexter stood silently, clenching his jaw.

“I fell,” he said curtly.

“Fell?” Dylan stood up and walked around the desk to get a better look.

You didn’t fall, buddy.

You got beaten up.

Someone gave you a good smack, huh? He poked Dexter’s swollen cheek.

Dexter recoiled, hissing in pain.

Don’t touch me.

Oh, sorry, big, strong Quinn.

Dylan laughed again.

You know what I think? I think someone finally put you in your place.

And judging by your face, they did it thoroughly.

I bet it was the husband of one of those women you spy on along your route.

I don’t spy on anyone.

Come on.

Dylan waved his hand.

You do realize you look like [ __ ] right? Customers will be scared off by a courier with a face like that.

Maybe you should take some time off.

No.

Dexter shook his head.

Even though every movement was painful.

I’ll work.

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