Over the next few days, Claire noticed things she might have ignored earlier. Colin began conscientiously collecting the post before she came downstairs. A letter from a credit company disappeared from the hall table, then reappeared later in the recycling, torn into strips. When she asked about it, he said it was junk mail, which was plausible enough.
He also stopped leaving his laptop open. Colin had never cared about privacy before. His passwords were usually written on the backs of envelopes and tucked under paperweights. Now the screen went black whenever Claire entered the room.
Still, her suspicion lay dormant mostly, even if it was mildly triggered by a pause before he answered, a drawer closed too sharply, and a smile that felt borrowed. Claire told herself marriage was work: money worries, work stress, age, boredom. Most explanations did not require fear, only consistent communication and a spirit to understand the other person. She tried hard to choose those.