His thoughts raced. “Maybe she’s just needing some space,” he reassured himself. After all, she had been by his side through everything—the accident, the recovery, the long months of adjustment. Maybe she just needed to unwind.
Then, while folding laundry—an activity Natalie typically insisted on handling—he stumbled upon a receipt in her coat pocket from an upscale restaurant they hadn’t visited in years. The date matched a night she claimed to be “working late.”