“Quiet,” I answered.
“Did you get some rest?”
“A little.”
He seemed satisfied.
Then he walked into the kitchen and began preparing dinner.
I watched him from the doorway, remembering the photograph, the emails, and the signature I had placed on documents I hadn’t understood.
A few minutes later, he appeared with two glasses of water.
“Here you are, sweetheart.”
I accepted mine but didn’t drink.
Daniel sat opposite me and studied my face.
“Something bothering you?”
I forced a smile.
“Actually, Daniel, I’ve been thinking about something.”
“What’s that?”
“I want to see my own doctor tomorrow.”
His hand stopped halfway toward his glass.
For just a second, the loving husband disappeared.
In his place was a man calculating his next move.
Then he smiled.
“Of course, darling. Whatever makes you comfortable.”
But that night, I didn’t drink anything he prepared.
And for the first time in six months, I locked our bedroom door.
