I waited.
When he hung up, I quietly backed away, my mind spinning. I didn’t know whether to cry, run, or pretend nothing was happening until I had the full truth.
That night, when he came to bed, I didn’t pretend to be asleep.
I turned to face him, my voice steady, even though my heart was beating like a drum.
“Adrian,” I said, “if you have something to tell me… say it now. Before I have to find out another way.”
He froze.
His hand stopped halfway to the lamp. The color drained from his face.
“M-Mia…” he stammered.
“I heard you,” I continued quietly. “The night you thought I was asleep. And today. On the phone.”
There was a long silence. He sat down on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, hands clasped so tightly they shook.
In that moment, I was sure he was about to tell me he was cheating. Or that he was sick. Or that he’d lost everything.
