Chapter Two
1024 Words
The next morning, he opened his laptop while Elise was in the shower.
He didn’t tell himself what he was doing.
He didn’t need to.
By the time he closed it, the decision had already been made somewhere quieter than thought.
A name entered into a search.
A service hired without ceremony.
A stranger now watching the life Adrian could no longer interpret alone.
When Elise stepped out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around her hair, she looked at him the way she always had.
Like nothing had changed.
Like everything was still safe.
“Coffee?” she asked.
Adrian nodded.
“Yes,” he said.
Then, after a pause he didn’t mean to include:
“Of course.”
And Elise smiled, small, absentminded, already turning away.
Neither of them noticed that it was the last ordinary morning they would ever share.
Not because something had ended.
But because something had already started.
The search history was still open when Adrian closed the laptop. He stared at the dark screen for a moment, seeing only his own reflection staring back. Then he stood, pushed the chair in, and went upstairs.
By the time he slid into bed beside Elise, he had convinced himself he wasn’t going to do anything.
Not yet.
Maybe not ever.
The next morning arrived with embarrassing normalcy. Elise burned a piece of toast. The dog from next door barked at nothing. The coffee maker sputtered and complained before finally cooperating.
Life continued with the stubborn determination of things that didn’t know they were being questioned.
Adrian watched Elise move through the kitchen. She wore one of his old college sweatshirts, sleeves rolled halfway up her forearms.
Twelve years.
Twelve years of mornings.
Twelve years of shared routines.
Twelve years of knowing exactly how she took her coffee.
He wondered when trust became something that could be measured against a handful of strange moments.
“You keep staring at me.”
Elise looked up from her mug. Adrian blinked.
“What?”
A smile tugged at one corner of her mouth.
“You’ve been staring at me all week.”
The remark was light.
Playful, but it landed somewhere uncomfortable.
“I didn’t realize I was.”
“Should I be worried?”
“No.”
The answer came too quickly. Elise studied him for a second. Then she laughed softly and shook her head.
“Good.”
The conversation ended there.
For her.
Not for Adrian.
At work, he found it impossible to focus.
Spreadsheets blurred together. Emails sat unanswered. Twice he reread the same document without absorbing a single word.
Every time his thoughts drifted, they returned to the same place.
The smile.
The messages.
The receipt.
Nothing.
Everything.
That evening, Elise announced she had to go into town.
Again.
The statement was casual. As though she were mentioning the weather. Adrian looked up from the couch.
“What for?”
The question slipped out before he could stop it. Elise paused only briefly.
“Errands.”
“At seven o’clock?”
Her expression flickered.
Not guilt, but surprise.
“You’ve never cared what time I run errands before.”
The observation wasn’t accusatory.
That made it worse.
Adrian forced a shrug.
“Just asking.”
Elise held his gaze another moment. Then nodded.
“Okay.”
He listened to her car pull away. Then sat in silence. The house suddenly felt larger than it was.
Too quiet.
Too empty.
He told himself he wouldn’t follow her. The thought alone felt ridiculous. Like something from a bad movie. Something desperate people did.
Not him.
Never him.
An hour later, he found himself driving toward town anyway.
He hated himself the entire way. The tightening in his chest, and all the excuses he kept making.
Maybe he just wanted peace of mind.
Maybe he wanted proof that he was wrong.
Maybe he wanted to laugh at himself tomorrow.
He never found her.
The town was too large. The possibilities too many. After forty minutes of aimless driving, Adrian pulled into an empty parking lot and sat there.
Feeling stupid, relieved, and disappointed.
The last emotion bothered him most.
When Elise returned home, she carried a small shopping bag.
Nothing suspicious.
Nothing unusual.
She set it on the counter and began putting things away.
Normal.
Everything looked normal.
That night Adrian waited until she was asleep before going downstairs. The shopping receipt sat in the kitchen trash.
Folded. Carelessly discarded.
He told himself he was only proving to himself how ridiculous he had become. Nothing more.
The receipt listed groceries.
A candle.
A bottle of wine.
And something else.
A purchase made at a*****e across town.
A store Elise never visited.
At least not that he knew of. Adrian stared at the itemized list.
His pulse quickened.
Not because it proved anything.
Because it didn’t.
That was becoming the problem.
Nothing ever proved anything. Every answer created another question. Every explanation seemed to leave something behind.
A loose thread.
A missing piece.
A reason to keep looking.
Near midnight, he returned to the laptop.
The search results were still there.
Private investigators.
Surveillance services.
Background checks.
Names and numbers he had spent the previous night pretending not to consider.
He sat motionless for several minutes.
The cursor blinking patiently on the screen.
Waiting.
Upstairs, Elise shifted in her sleep.
The sound carried faintly through the floorboards.
Familiar.
Comforting.
Human.
For a moment, Adrian almost closed the computer.
Almost laughed at himself.
Almost chose trust.
Then he remembered the smile.
The messages.
The unexplained trips.
The feeling that something was happening just beyond the edge of his vision.
And the moment passed
Adrian picked up his phone.
Selected a number.
Pressed call.
The line rang once.
Twice.
Three times.
Then a voice answered.
“Morales Investigations.”
Adrian swallowed.
His mouth suddenly dry.
“Hi,” he said.
The word sounded strange coming out.
Like the beginning of a confession.
“My name is Adrian Miller.”
He looked toward the dark window above the sink, seeing only his reflection.
“I think my wife is hiding something from me.”
- Writer
