Chapter 2

Ethan returned to the counseling room holding my scarf.

"You forgot this again." He wrapped it around my neck, letting his fingers brush my cheek. "Why are you so cold?"

I stared at those hands and suddenly wondered if they had touched another woman.

"The air conditioning in here is freezing."

Mara stood by the door, looking past me at Ethan.

The moment lasted barely a second before Ethan looked away.

If I hadn't seen that message, I might never have noticed the pause between them.

"We made a lot of progress today," Mara told him. "Claire is finally willing to control these obsessive thoughts of hers."

"I knew she could do it." Ethan slipped an arm around my shoulders.

I didn't pull away.

He was in a wonderful mood on the drive home. He even put on the songs we used to listen to together.

At a red light, he took my hand and slowly rubbed his thumb over my wedding ring.

"I know things have been hard lately," he said. "But I've never once thought about giving up on us."

My stomach lurched.

I pulled my hand away and lowered the window.

Cold air rushed into the car. I struggled to breathe, barely managing not to throw up all over his seats.

"Feeling sick again?" he asked.

"Must've been something I ate for lunch."

He didn't question me. He simply reached over and lowered the music.

Nine-year-old Sophie was sitting at the living room table doing her homework.

When we came inside, she looked at Ethan first. Only then did she glance cautiously at me.

"Did counseling go well?"

No child should have to ask about her parents' marriage in that tone.

Ethan bent down and kissed the top of her head. "It went very well. Mom's getting better."

My steps faltered.

Relief flooded Sophie's face. She had been worried about me all along.

I walked over and wrapped my arms around her.

Her body stiffened at first. Then she finally relaxed against me.

"Mom isn't sick," I murmured into her hair. "I'm just a little tired."

Behind me, Ethan went silent for several seconds.

He was more attentive than usual during dinner. He cleared the dishes without being asked and even suggested that we watch a movie together.

I told him I had a headache and went upstairs early.

The moment I locked the bathroom door, I gripped the sink and vomited.

The woman in the mirror had bloodshot eyes and colorless lips.

For the past six months, I had followed Mara's instructions. I wrote down every suspicion I had, then searched for what I had done wrong.

Ethan came home late because I didn't give him enough space.

He deleted messages because I always made him feel like he was being interrogated.

He stopped touching me because my suspicions had destroyed our intimacy.

Now I finally understood how they always knew exactly what to say to convince me.

I turned on the faucet to drown out the sound of my breathing, then pulled out my phone and sent Rachel a message.

Can we meet tomorrow? Don't tell Ethan.

As soon as it was sent, I deleted the conversation notification.

I wanted to storm downstairs, shove that message in his face, and force him to admit everything.

But if I confronted him now, the backup phone would disappear, and Mara would immediately erase every trace she had left behind.

More importantly, Sophie already believed I was the problem.

I couldn't fall apart in front of her.

That night, Ethan wrapped his arms around me from behind.

His breath brushed the side of my neck. It was so familiar that my chest ached.

"I'm glad you chose to trust me today," he whispered.

The phone on his nightstand vibrated three times in a row.

The old me would have lain awake until morning, wondering who it was.

This time, I closed my eyes and remained perfectly still.

I no longer needed to wonder whether he had betrayed me.