For two days, she tried to agree with him. She watched herself carefully, checking every thought for overreaction. Yet at night, when he rolled away to sleep, she lay awake with the messages replaying behind her eyes, every line louder than his reassurances. A quiet, stubborn clarity began to form.
She checked again. This time, she looked at dates, times, and the rhythm of their talking. Lunch breaks that matched his “back-to-back meetings.” Late evenings when he’d insisted on staying at the office. The pattern she’d been urged not to see arranged itself anyway, undeniable and simple.