Chapter 2

The next morning, Nathan acted as if nothing had changed.

He stood by the bedroom door, adjusting his cufflinks while watching me get ready.

"I’m sorry about last night," he said softly.

I looked at him.

"I know I ruined our anniversary."

His expression was full of regret.

"But I don’t want one bad night to become a memory we regret forever. Let me make it up to you today."

For a moment, I almost remembered the man I married.

Nathan had never been careless about important days.

He remembered every anniversary, every small promise, every detail about me.

That was what made the truth hurt.

He could love me.

And still choose her.

"Okay," I said.

Because I needed to see how far his other life had gone.

I waited until his car left our street. Then I drove to Riverside Heights.

My hands stayed steady until I reached Apartment 1208.

The key slid into the lock without resistance.

The door opened.

A pair of Nathan’s brown slippers sat in the entrance.

I had bought them for him last Christmas.

For a few seconds, I could only stare.

Then I stepped inside and closed the door behind me.

This was not a secret room used for quick meetings.

It was a home.

A framed photograph stood on a shelf. Nathan and Sophie smiled at the camera beside a lake. His arm was around her shoulders.

Another picture showed them cooking together.

There were two coffee cups beside the sink. Nathan’s favorite cereal stood on top of the refrigerator. His medication was arranged in a small box marked with the days of the week.

The apartment held an entire version of my husband.

I took pictures of everything.

On the kitchen counter, I found a stack of bills. Electricity, internet, and insurance.

Some were in Nathan’s name.

Others were addressed to both Nathan Walker and Sophie Miller.

He had not only rented this place.

He paid to maintain it.

My phone rang.

Nathan’s name appeared on the screen.

I answered, but I said nothing.

"Hey," he said. "I only have a minute."

"What do you want?"

He paused.

"I wanted to check on you. You seemed strange this morning."

His words might have touched me yesterday.

Now I was staring at a photograph of him kissing Sophie’s cheek.

"I’m fine.," I said.

After the call ended, I copied the account numbers from the bills.

Then I walked down the hallway.

The main bedroom door stood open.

Nathan’s watch charger sat beside the bed. A book he had claimed to lose months ago lay on the nightstand.

Two bathrobes hung behind the bathroom door.

His toothbrush was still wet.

He had slept here last night.

I backed away from the room.

The second door was closed.

I expected an office or guest room.

When I opened it, my hand froze on the handle.

The walls were pale green.

A white crib stood beneath a cloud-shaped lamp. Tiny clothes filled the open wardrobe. A changing table had been placed near the window.

It was a nursery.

A paper moon hung above the crib. Small silver stars moved beneath it.

Nathan had installed the same kind of mobile in our friends’ nursery two years ago. He had spent an hour making sure every piece was level.

I had watched him and imagined him doing it for our child one day.

Now he had done it here.

For Sophie’s baby.

A bottle of prenatal vitamins stood beside a pregnancy guide. I opened the book.

Several pages had been marked.

Nathan’s handwriting filled the margins.

Ask about sleeping position.

No soft cheese.

Check hospital parking.

He had never forgotten Sophie’s appointments.

Meanwhile, I had attended my first two appointments alone.

Nathan did not even know I was ten weeks pregnant.

I had planned to tell him during our anniversary dinner.

I pressed one hand against my stomach.

For the first time, I was grateful that the evening had gone wrong.

My child would not become another reason for Nathan to lie.

I photographed the vitamins and medical guide. Then I checked the folder beside the changing table.

It contained receipts, furniture orders, and a renovation contract.

Every choice had Nathan’s approval beside it.

This baby was not an accident he had discovered yesterday.

Nathan had planned this room.

He had chosen it piece by piece.

I turned to the final page.

Completion date: October 14.

Today.

Our sixth wedding anniversary.

The nursery had been finished on the same day Nathan promised to celebrate our marriage.

Nathan had built a nursery in secret.

He had completed it on our anniversary.

That was no longer an affair.

It was another family.

Before I could leave, an alert appeared on my phone. It had synced from the tablet inside the apartment when I accessed the shared property account.

Prenatal appointment reminder:

Dad attendance confirmed—Nathan.

Today, 6:30 p.m.