Chapter 1

As usual, Austin Gonzalez got home before me. The kitchen was filled with the aroma of my favorite corn chowder, and a bouquet of white bellflowers sat on the coffee table.

As I changed my shoes, he walked over with a glass of water.

"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.

The bottom drawer of the desk really wasn't closed all the way. There was a tiny gap, about two millimeters.

I crouched down, planning to tuck that corner of paper back in, but for some reason, I didn't. Instead, 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, his laptop was always out for me to use, and he'd even hand me his bank card so I could go grocery shopping.

Why would a guy like him need a locked drawer?

*****

"Anna?" Austin's voice suddenly came from behind me.

I spun around, and there he was, standing in the doorway with a glass of warm milk, that gentle smile still on his face, a hint of his fang showing.

"Are you hungry? Here, have some milk to hold you over," Austin said.

I stood up, giving him a half-hearted smile. "How come this drawer is locked?"

He glanced down, his smile unchanged. "Oh, it's just some old contracts and IDs. I locked it so I wouldn't lose them. Did you need something?"

"No," I replied. "I just saw it wasn't closed all the way and thought I'd help push it in."

"Really?" He stepped closer and looked at the drawer. "Yeah, it's not shut tight. Maybe I forgot to lock it after taking something out this morning."

He pulled out a ring of keys from his pocket, picked the tiniest one, and turned it in the lock. The drawer clicked shut.

"All set," Austin said, straightening up and handing me the milk. "Drink it while it's still warm. Once you're done, dinner's pretty much ready."

I took the glass and sipped. Perfect temperature.

All through dinner, I couldn't shake the thought of that drawer. Austin's explanation made total sense. I couldn't poke a single hole in it. But still, I couldn't let it go.

That sliver of white paper was stuck in Anna's mind, like a splinter she couldn't pull out.

Three days later, Austin went on a business trip.

He said he was heading to a nearby city for a project, planning to go and come back the same day, but he might get back late, so he told me not to wait up.

While I was packing his bag, I waited until he was in the shower, then quietly took his keychain and snapped pictures of each key with my phone.

The smallest one was for the study drawer.

The next day, I took the day off. Austin left at eight in the morning, and I waited until nine to make sure he wouldn't suddenly come back, then used the copy I'd made to unlock the drawer.

Six envelopes were stacked neatly inside.

I took a deep breath and picked up the top one.

Inside was a photo. The woman looked about thirty, with long hair, wearing a white dress, standing under a sycamore tree, her smile soft and gentle. On the back, written in black ink, was a date: March 12, 2018.

I didn't know her.

I put the photo back and picked up the second envelope.

Another woman. Short hair, round face, probably in her twenties, wearing a red hoodie, standing at a night market. On the back: July 21, 2019.