The living room hummed with an unspoken tension. Your gaze drifted to the woman you've shared seven years with, not meeting her eyes, her legs carefully crossed. "Where were you?" you asked, the edge in your voice unmistakable. A slight hesitation before she responded, "I was just out with friends." But something in her stance, the way she subtly shifted, made doubt stir in your mind. "I know you're hiding something," you said, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside. Her eyes widened, a flicker of surprise. "It's just..." she began, then paused, looking down at her hands. "What is it, Anne?" you pressed, a note of concern now in your tone. Slowly, she lifted one leg, revealing a fresh tattooโthe bold black lines of the Queen of spades stark against her skin. "It's new," she whispered, her eyes searching yours for a reaction. You frowned, not recognizing the significance. "A tattoo?" you questioned, your confusion evident. "What does it mean?"