“Just asking. You work too much.”
“I’m fine.”
There was a pause.
“Okay,” she said. “Just promise me you’ll take care of yourself.”
After we hung up, I stared at the phone.
Something was happening.
I just didn’t know what.
Over the next two weeks, the secrecy became impossible to ignore.
Emily began visiting on evenings when Michael was supposed to be working late. Sometimes she would arrive, look around the house as if checking whether I was alone, and ask whether I had been sleeping well.
If I asked why she wanted to know, she changed the subject.
Michael, meanwhile, had developed an almost painful interest in my health.
He reminded me to take breaks at work. He asked whether I had eaten lunch. He wanted to know if the dizziness I occasionally mentioned had returned.
I thought it was sweet at first.
Then it began to feel rehearsed, as though he and Emily were following instructions from someone else.
