Martin began plotting again. “I’ll confront him,” he said, eyes sharp with resolve. “Man to man. Let’s see what he says when I demand answers.” The thought of it terrified me. “You’ll only embarrass her,” I whispered. “She’ll never forgive us if you do that.”
We argued late into the night, his fury weighed against my fear. Neither of us slept, both staring at the ceiling, imagining Nora’s life folding in directions we couldn’t control. The man had become a shadow in our marriage, a third presence at every meal and conversation.