Later that evening, the tension in the house snapped completely. Tom was sitting on the couch, leaving his phone on the coffee table while he went to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. Clara stood by the table, staring at the device as it lit up with a silent email notification. Her heart hammered against her ribs. Unable to stop herself, she casually reached for it, pretending to check the time.
Before her fingers could even brush the glass, Tom rushed back into the room. In a flash, he snatched the phone out of her hand, his face pale and defensive. “Don’t touch my phone, Clara,” his voice was sharp, laced with an edge she had never heard before in their twelve years of marriage. “I’ve told you about handling my work devices. I have highly sensitive client data on here that I can’t risk being compromised.”
The aggressive reaction cemented the terror in her mind. He wasn’t just working late or clearing his head; he was actively guarding a completely separate life from her. In Clara’s mind, the man who had been her absolute anchor had suddenly become a total stranger, hiding a dark truth behind a wall of cold hostility.