“I didn’t sleep.”
“Wedding stuff?”
Darius looked at him.
“Something like that.”
He left early.
When he reached home, Simone’s car was gone.
He showered.
Changed clothes.
Tried to watch television.
At six thirty, she texted.
Client dinner. Probably home around 9.
Darius stared at the message.
He replied:
Okay. Love you.
Three dots appeared.
Disappeared.
Appeared again.
Finally:
Love you too ❤️
At nine fifteen, Simone had not returned.
At nine thirty, still nothing.
At ten eleven, the front door opened.
Simone entered carrying her purse.
“Hey.”
Darius muted the television.
“How was dinner?”
“Good.”
“What restaurant?”
“Ruth’s.”
“With who?”
Simone frowned.
“Why?”
“Just asking.”
“The Anders account.”
Darius nodded.
“How many people?”
Simone stared at him.
“What is this?”
“What?”
“Twenty questions.”
“I asked two.”
She put down her purse.
“You have been weird for three days.”
Darius looked at her.
Simone folded her arms.
“If you have something to say, say it.”
He nearly did.
Then her phone vibrated inside her purse.
Simone glanced toward it.
Darius saw fear.
There was no longer any doubt that she was hiding something.
He stood.
“I’m tired.”
“That’s it?”
“For tonight.”
“Darius.”
He walked upstairs.
That night, Simone slept beside him.
Darius remained awake.
At 2:14 a.m., she got out of bed.
He heard her footsteps move toward the bathroom.
The door closed.
A minute later, he heard her whispering.
He could not make out every word.
Only fragments.
“No.”
A pause.
“Stop.”
Another pause.
“He’s sleeping.”
Darius’s chest tightened.
Then:
“I said I’ll figure it out.”
He closed his eyes.
There it was.
Not proof of everything.
Enough proof that nothing was innocent.
Simone returned five minutes later.
She slid into bed.
Darius pretended to sleep.
She lay beside him for less than a minute before her hand touched his back.
For the first time in almost five years, he moved away.
The following morning, Darius decided he would confront her after work.
No trap.
No following her.
No dramatic discovery.
He would ask directly.
Then life made the decision for him.
At eleven twenty, Darius received a call from a wedding vendor.
“Mr. Coleman?”
“Yes.”
“This is Lauren from Bellamy House.”
The wedding venue.
“What can I do for you?”
“There seems to be some confusion regarding your cancellation request.”
Darius stopped walking.
“My what?”
“The cancellation request.”
“I didn’t cancel anything.”
Silence.
“Oh.”
Darius entered an empty conference room and closed the door.