Tyler's POV
Prison warps time in cruel ways. What should have been months felt like years dragging by in this concrete hellhole. My life had shrunk to the confines of my cell, with only a pathetic hour of yard time every other day and occasional visits to break the monotony. Grace came once a month, and despite her being a constant irritation, I played nice. Prison without visits was a special kind of torment I wasn't willing to endure.
Her first visit was a hurricane of accusations after she discovered my affair with Irina. I performed the familiar dance of contrition—eyes downcast, voice softened with just the right amount of shame. It took effort, but she eventually swallowed my story about being weak and falling prey to seduction. I promised it wouldn't happen again, the same promise I'd recycled throughout our marriage whenever she caught me with another woman. Grace always believed me, always accepted my "momentary weakness" excuse.
