Chapter 2

Tamsin's POV

The next morning, I packed Jerry's stuff like I always do, acting like nothing had happened.

If the two of them were going to keep me in the dark, fine, I could play along until I left. That's when my hand touched something in the front pocket.

I pulled it out.

A small box of chocolates. The fancy kind, with a gold ribbon tied around it. I turned it over. There was a little card tucked under the ribbon.

For the sweetest little guy — M

I stood there holding it.

"Jerry." I kept my voice normal. "Where did this come from?"

He didn't even look up from putting his shoes on. "Daddy bought it."

He lied to me without even blinking.

I put the chocolates back in his bag and zipped it shut.

I wanted to ask him. But I looked at his small hands still fussing with his laces and I thought, what would I even say? And what would he do? Run straight to Steven the second I dropped him off.

I helped him with his jacket and drove him to school.

I got home after drop-off and stared at the laundry basket in the hallway. I picked it up and carried it to the laundry room.

I sorted through the pile. Grabbed Steven's suit jacket. I always checked the pockets before loading — old habit — looking for receipts or change he'd forgotten about.

My fingers closed around something soft.

Lace underwear. Not mine.

I just stood there. For a second my brain genuinely didn't process it. And then it did, all at once, because there were stains on the fabric and I knew what they were and I knew whose they were and I knew exactly how they got there.

I felt so disgusted I almost threw up right there.

I rushed to the sink and threw up everything. Then I just sat on the floor, not moving for a long time.

She left those lace panties there on purpose. She had to. Nobody forgets something like that in their pocket.

I thought about throwing them in the trash. I thought about burning them.

But instead, I went back to the laundry room, found a Ziploc bag under the sink, and sealed them inside.

This would be one of the gifts I had for Steven.

I looked at the pile of laundry left to do, the dishes in the sink, the floor that needed sweeping, I felt exhausted.

I just wanted to get out of that house. So I grabbed my keys and left for work.

That evening when I got home from work, I pulled into the driveway and saw Steven's car already parked there.

When I walked in, he was standing in the living room with his arms crossed.

"You didn't clean the house today," he said. "And my suit, I needed that washed. I have a function this week."

"I dropped Jerry off and went straight to work," I said. "I didn't have time."

"That's not good enough. I told you I needed that suit."

"Steven. When we got married, you said we'd split the housework. Do you remember that?"

He blinked. "What?"

"You said it. Equal partnership. You'd do your half."

"I've been slammed at work lately—"

"So it all falls to me now?"

He opened his mouth. Nothing came out.

I looked at him standing there, a little caught, a little annoyed.

"Mommy." Jerry came in from the living room. "I'm hungry. Can you make creamy chicken stew? The one you always make?"

I looked at my son. "I'm exhausted. Ask Daddy to cook tonight."

Jerry's eyes moved between the two of us.

"Yeah," he said. "Mommy's tired too. Daddy, you should cook!" He turned to me with a sweet little smile. "Mommy, go rest. We'll call you when it's ready."

I didn't say anything. I just looked at him for a moment.

He was six. He was just a little boy.

"Steven," I said. "Come to the bedroom. I need to talk to you."

"Right now? About what?"

"Come to the bedroom."

He followed me down the hall. I closed the door and turned around.

"Steven, I think we need to—"

His phone buzzed. He glanced at it and I watched his face shift.

"Sorry, it's work. I have to go."

"I'm talking to you."

"It's an emergency, I can't, we'll finish this later, I promise." He gave me that easy smile. "Okay, babe?"

He was already moving toward the door.

"Steven—"

"Mommy!"

Jerry was right there, right in front of me. I looked past him and saw it, Steven catching Jerry's eye, just for a second, tilting his head toward me slightly.

Jerry spun around to face me. "Daddy has to work. Mommy, I'm so hungry. Can you please just make the stew now?"

The front door clicked shut.

I stood in the hallway with Jerry looking up at me, waiting.

How many times had I thought Jerry just had bad timing. Always showing up right when I needed a minute. Always needing something right when I was about to say something. I had thought that was just kids.

But now it seemed like maybe it wasn't, and I felt a sharp pain in my chest.

I walked to the kitchen, took out the chicken. The cream. The onions. I started cutting and I didn't stop, because if I stopped I'd have to feel it, all of it, and I wasn't ready for that.

The TV clicked on in the other room. Then Jerry's voice, quieter than usual. I put down the knife and stepped to the doorway.

His back was to me. Phone pressed to his ear.

"Daddy, Mommy's in the kitchen making dinner." A short pause. "Did you get to see Michelle?"