One evening she came home flushed, carrying bags she tucked quickly into the closet. Daniel asked what she’d bought; she waved him off, saying it was “just boring errands.” Her dismissiveness felt staged, as though she was hiding something more. Daniel replayed the moment later, convinced her evasive smile meant danger.
She took longer detours after work, arriving later than usual. When Daniel asked, she muttered about traffic, about errands, her tone distracted. He tracked the clock, imagining other possibilities: a hidden rendezvous, hushed conversations over wine. Each excuse piled atop his suspicions, bricks building a wall between them.