“Not yet.”
Ethan’s words followed me all the way upstairs, clinging to the edges of my thoughts like a shadow that refused to thin. I lay awake for a long time, staring at the ceiling of the room we still shared, replaying the low murmur of his voice and his father’s.
My name had been spoken.
I kept wondering what they were planning. Why did my name come up at all? The more I turned it over, the stronger the urge to confront him became.
Yet I knew Ethan. He could take any question and twist it into an argument, leaving me more unsettled than before. By the time the first pale light of morning touched the curtains, I had made a decision. If I was going to stay in this marriage, something had to change.
I found him in the bedroom, standing before the mirror, buttoning his shirt with
