“What are you doing in there?”
He was standing in the kitchen doorway.
His unusually sharp tone frightened me.
“I was just looking for some bread.”
He quickly approached, took the envelope, and slipped it into his pocket.
“Don’t open that cupboard again.”
I stared at him in surprise.
In fifty-four years of marriage, he had never spoken to me like that.
From that day on, I started watching him more carefully. I noticed that every month, George spoke to a woman on the phone.
Whenever I entered the room, he immediately ended the call.
One night, I accidentally overheard him.
“Not yet. Margaret doesn’t know anything.”
He paused.
Then he added,
“I’m watching her every day. But I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this.”
My heart tightened. What was he watching? And why wasn’t I supposed to know?
A few weeks later, I began feeling unusually tired. Sometimes, I became dizzy.
