Night after night, she lay awake imagining Daniel slipping out to meetings, leaving her with only suppers and polite smiles. She recited his ledger entries until the numbers blurred. The key in her handbag felt like a verdict.
The following evening, Maggie invited her closest friend, Eleanor, for tea. Pouring nervously, she confessed the half-truths, the envelopes, the storage unit. Eleanor listened quietly, then said, “If it were me, I’d not know what to think.” Maggie’s teacup rattled against its saucer, dread hollowing her chest.