Avery:
He moved through the bedroom with a calmness that looked practiced. Too practiced.
The way he folded his shirts. The way he slid his knife into the sheath on his ankle like it was muscle memory. The way he checked and rechecked the bullets in his sidearm without a single word. Each movement was smooth. Focused. Like his body had learned how to do this without even thinking.
I sat on the edge of the bed, silent, my fingers curled around the mug of lukewarm tea I hadn’t touched in twenty minutes.
He was leaving. Again.
And I couldn’t stop thinking about what I hadn’t said.
The pregnancy test was hidden at the back of the medicine cabinet. Second one, just to be sure. Just to prove the first wasn’t a fluke. And it wasn’t.
Two lines.
Still.
Faint but undeniable.
I had planned
