That evening, Maggie sat alone in Daniel’s armchair, the envelope and ledgers spread across her lap. She whispered into the empty room, “Please, Daniel. I need to know.” Her voice trembled, half-plea, half-accusation. The ticking clock only deepened the silence.
In the evenings, she returned to the storage unit, cataloging files, cross-referencing ledger entries with dates. Each discovery urged two possible readings. One: Daniel was careful and methodical, shielding her. Two: he had a second life, obligations, and intimacies outside their marriage. The mind chose the unpleasant interpretation eagerly.