What the Smart Feeder Told Me

My boyfriend and I were both away on business trips when the smart home app connected to our pet feeder sent a notification to my phone: “Cat food has been added manually.”
How was that possible?
We always used the automatic feeding schedule. The manual button was tucked away in a spot the cat could never reach on his own.
I immediately pulled up the security camera feed linked to the app. Dragging the timeline back, I saw it clearly: a slender, pale hand pressing the button.
A moment later, a pair of legs in sheer stockings came into view. My cat, Schwarz, was purring and rubbing affectionately against her ankles.
I called my boyfriend, Leo.
“Did you ask a friend to feed the cat for us?”
He sounded surprised. “No, why? Isn’t the automatic feeder working? Don't worry, babe, he’s not going to starve.”
I murmured something about the app probably glitching, but as I hung up, my fingers were already flying across the screen, canceling my flight for the day after tomorrow and booking a seat on the earliest high-speed train home.
…
The train cut through the darkness.
I clutched my cold phone, replaying the ten-second clip over and over.
Who was this woman?
Leo and I had been together for three years, living together for one. This downtown apartment was his, he’d said, bought outright to give us a stable future. He had always been thoughtful, attentive to every detail. Even on this trip, he’d called every morning and night, his voice overflowing with love.
But the image on my phone screen had just punctured the perfect, airtight bubble of our life together.
I didn’t call him back. I didn’t send an accusatory text.
I needed to see for myself.
At five in the morning, I stood at our front door, suitcase in hand. The fingerprint lock clicked softly.
The apartment was pitch black, so quiet I could hear my own heart hammering in my chest.
I didn’t turn on the lights. Using the faint glow of my phone, I crept into the living room. A strange perfume hung in the air, a light, floral scent completely different from the woody fragrance I always wore.
On the sofa, I saw a single, long strand of curly hair.
Not mine. My hair was long and straight.
Hearing a noise, the cat padded out from the bedroom. He saw me and let out a lazy “meow,” not the enthusiastic greeting I was used to. He, too, smelled of that unfamiliar perfume.
Every sign pointed to the worst possible conclusion.
I checked the bedroom. The bed was perfectly made. The closet held only my clothes and Leo’s, nothing belonging to a third person. The bathroom had only our two toothbrushes, our towels hanging neatly in their places.
Besides the hair and the perfume, the apartment was pristine, as if nothing had ever happened. But that only made it more unsettling. A woman who could come and go so freely, a woman my cat treated with such familiarity, was no ordinary intruder.
I sat on the cold sofa, sleepless, until the first light of dawn broke through the windows.
I sealed the strand of hair in a small plastic bag and took a picture of it. Then, as if nothing were wrong, I hired a cleaning service to deep-clean the entire apartment, ordering them to use an air purifier to eliminate any lingering scents.
Once it was done, I posted a photo of the train station on my feed. The caption read: “Finished work early. Time to go home and cuddle my cat.”
Leo’s call came almost immediately. I let it ring for a long time before answering, my voice deliberately groggy. “Hello?”
“Babe, you’re back early! Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve picked you up.” His voice was as gentle as ever, with just the right touch of playful reproach.
“It was a last-minute thing. I was too tired to call.”
“Well, I’ll wrap things up here as fast as I can. I’ll be back the day after tomorrow. Be good and wait for me, okay?”
“Okay.”
After hanging up, I stared at his name on the screen. He was playing it cool. As if the woman in our home was nothing more than a glitch in the system.
For the next two days, I didn’t go anywhere. I stayed home with Schwarz, analyzing the security footage again and again.
After pressing the button, the woman hadn’t left right away. She had crouched down, stroking the cat’s back, whispering something to him. Her profile was visible for a fleeting moment in the corner of the frame—blurry, but clearly beautiful.
From what I could see, Leo wasn’t there. This wasn't a simple case of him cheating while I was away. The woman moved with an unhurried, familiar ease, as if she were the one who owned the place.
That was the part that didn’t make sense. This was more complicated than I thought. A cold knot of dread formed in my stomach.
The weather was beautiful the day Leo returned. He walked in, dropped his suitcase, and opened his arms for a hug.
“Babe, I missed you like crazy.”
He smelled of his usual cologne, mixed with the faint scent of travel. I stood rigidly in his arms.
He seemed to notice and pulled back, cupping my face. “What’s wrong? You’re not happy to see me?”
I shook my head, forcing a smile. “No, just a little tired.”
He tweaked my nose. “My lazy girl. Just wait, I’ll cook you a feast tonight.”
While he was in the shower, I went through his suitcase. His clothes were neatly sorted, clean separated from dirty, just as meticulously as always. There were no women’s items, no suspicious receipts, no cracks in his perfect facade.
For dinner, he made all my favorite dishes. At the table, he chattered excitedly about his trip, placing food on my plate, acting as if nothing had changed. I listened quietly, the food tasteless in my mouth.
Then, he mentioned it casually. “This project is going to come with a big bonus. What do you think about getting a new sofa? This one’s getting a little old.”
I put down my fork. “Leo, did you really buy this apartment?”
The smile on his face froze. He stared at me for a few seconds, then laughed as if I’d told a joke. “Babe, what are you talking about? If I didn’t buy it, did it just fall from the sky?”
He reached for my head, but I pulled away.
“Can I see the contract? The deed for the apartment?” I held his gaze.
His eyes flickered for a moment before he regained his composure, his expression shifting to one of hurt. “What’s gotten into you? Why are you suddenly asking about this? After all this time, you don't trust me?”
“I just want to see it,” I said, my voice quiet but firm.
He fell silent. The only sound in the room was the low hum of the refrigerator.
Finally, he sighed, went to his desk, and pulled out a file, handing it to me. “It’s all in here.”
I opened it. The purchase agreement, a copy of the deed, receipts—everything was there. And on the deed, under the owner’s name, was his name, clear as day: Leo Reed.
Every letter seemed to mock my suspicion.
Was I wrong? Was I just being paranoid?
Leo came and wrapped his arms around me from behind. “You silly girl, you scared me. Were you just overthinking things while I was gone? I won’t leave you alone again.” His embrace was warm, his tone forgiving.
Just then, the doorbell rang.
Ding-dong.
The sound shattered the fragile peace.
Leo’s body went rigid. I could feel the muscles in his arms tighten around me.
“Who could that be so late?” he asked, trying to sound casual.
“I’ll get it.” I tried to pull away.
He held me tighter. “Don’t. It’s probably just a salesperson. Ignore it.”
Ding-dong. Ding-dong.
The bell rang again, more insistent this time.
I broke free and walked to the door. I looked through the peephole.
A woman stood outside. She was wearing a simple dress, her long hair falling over her shoulders. Her face was pale.
Even through the distorted lens of the peephole, I recognized her instantly.
It was the woman from the video.
I took a deep breath and threw the door open.
The woman saw me and froze, looking completely stunned. I stared back, my heart pounding against my ribs. The two of us stood there, separated by the threshold.
She wasn’t arrogant or smug. She wasn't guilty or evasive. Her eyes held nothing but pure, unadulterated shock.
Her gaze flickered past me to Leo, then back to my face.
“Who are you?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly. “Why are you in my house?”
Leo’s face turned the color of ash. He stared at the woman at the door, his eyes wide with a panic I had never seen before.
“S… Serena?” he stammered.
The woman named Serena ignored him. Her eyes were fixed on me. “Are you Leo’s girlfriend?”
I nodded, my body numb.
“Do you know who owns this apartment?” A bitter smile touched her lips. “He told you he bought it, didn’t he?”
My silence was all the answer she needed.
“He’s a liar,” Serena said. “This apartment belonged to my parents.”
My mind went blank. A roaring sound filled my ears. I turned and stared at Leo, silently demanding an explanation. A part of me, a desperate, foolish part, still hoped this woman was the liar.
But Leo avoided my eyes, his face gray, a sheen of cold sweat on his forehead.
A heavy sigh escaped my lips.
“Leo,” I said, my voice dangerously calm, “is what she’s saying true?”
He just shook his head, muttering, “No… it’s not like that…”
Serena pulled a stack of documents from her bag and slapped them down on the console table. “This is the deed. The owner is my father, David Shen. These are my parents’ death certificates. And this is the property management agreement Leo signed.”

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