But beneath them was one truth she wouldn’t say out loud: she needed to know whether she was being lied to. When the package arrived two days later, she hid it under folded sweaters like it was something dirty. That evening, Marcus was in the shower chair, eyes closed as warm water ran over his shoulders.
Julie washed his hair with careful hands, avoiding the spots that made him flinch. “You’re quiet,” Marcus said suddenly. Julie’s throat tightened. “Just tired.” He nodded like he understood. Maybe he did. Maybe he understood too well. After she helped him into bed, she waited until his breathing deepened, then slipped out of the bedroom like a thief.