The Seventh

Synopsis

"Tired?" he asked, taking my bag and giving my shoulders a gentle rub. I said I wasn't, and he smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners like a college kid. He really was eight years younger than me, just twenty-six, with bright eyes and a hint of a fang when he smiled. My coworkers always said I got insanely lucky, a divorced woman like me, ending up with such a sweet, thoughtful young heartthrob. "The chowder needs another twenty minutes. Take a break," he said, then headed back to the kitchen. I curled up on the couch, scrolling through my phone, when my eyes caught the half-open door to Austin's study. I rarely went in there. He always said it was his workspace, and I didn't want to bother him. But for some reason, that day, my gaze lingered a bit longer. I spotted a small corner of white sticking out from the bottom drawer of his desk, like the edge of a piece of paper. I didn't pay it any mind and just kept watching videos on my phone. But that little white corner wouldn't leave my head. It kept bugging me. Austin was a total neat freak. His study was always spotless, drawers always closed tight, and papers never out of place. Something like that just wasn't him. The chowder still needed twenty more minutes. I got up, walked over to the study door, and pushed it open. For some reason, I gently tried to pull the drawer open. It was locked. I pulled it a couple of times, but it wouldn't move at all. In that instant, a chill settled in my heart. I'd known Austin for four years, been married to him for three, and I'd never seen him lock anything. His phone password was my birthday, and his laptop was always out for me to use. Why would a guy like him need a locked drawer?