That night, I lay awake.
One piece was almost identical to the material of my missing blue dress. I stared at it, remembering Hannah’s story about women arriving with enormous bags.
Had Wesley been letting another woman wear my clothes?
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The thought made my stomach twist.
That night, I lay awake beside my sleeping husband. Fifteen years together, and suddenly I didn’t even know what he was doing in our own garage.
I couldn’t ignore everything.
What else was he hiding from me?
Over the next few days, Wesley continued being the perfect husband.
He cooked dinner, reminded me to take my medication, and helped me whenever I needed to move around. Sometimes, watching him carefully arrange pillows behind my back, I felt terrible for suspecting him.
I came up with a plan.
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But then I’d remember the missing clothes, the strange earring, and that locked garage.
