Nothing about him looked guilty.
For the rest of the afternoon, I barely spoke. Every memory from the past seven months rearranged itself. The appointments. The whispered calls Renee took outside. The evenings she came home smelling faintly of paint, which I’d blamed on a clinic renovation she mentioned once.
Now every detail looked like evidence.
When I got home, Eli ran to me wearing one of my old baseball caps backward.
“Daddy, look! I’m you.”
I picked him up and held him so tightly he squirmed.
Every detail looked like evidence.
Renee appeared in the kitchen doorway, wiping her hands on a towel.
“Dinner’s ready.”
She looked exactly like the woman I’d loved for six years.
For one dangerous moment, I almost believed I’d imagined everything.
Then I heard her voice again.
Every single word with Daniel.
I almost believed I’d imagined everything.
***
Dinner was painfully ordinary. Eli told us green beans made him “strong like Daddy.” Renee laughed and kissed the top of his head. I smiled when I had to, but every ordinary thing felt staged now.
After Eli fell asleep, Renee sat beside me on the couch with two mugs of tea.
“You’ve been quiet.”
“Long day.”
She studied me. “Work?”
I almost asked her who was moving in next week.
Every ordinary thing felt staged.
Instead, I took the mug and said, “Thanks.”
She looked relieved.
That relief broke something in me.
***
