Chapter 33

Thomas lay beside Cassandra, staring up at the ceiling, his mind churned with worry. It wasn’t the sort of anxiety a possessive husband might entertain—no, this was something deeper, more genuine. Since he’d pressed a faint bruise into her skin with an absentminded kiss a few nights earlier, Cassandra had receded into herself, drifting through the day with heavy thoughts. Never before had she carried that distant look—eyes constantly flicking toward her phone, escaping into some realm he could not fathom. And then there was the earphone: he had never once caught her with earbuds snug in her ears, watching videos or listening to something clandestine. His normally open, carefree wife had morphed into a mystery he couldn’t ignore.

That night, while Cassandra slept, Thomas conceded to his restlessness. Guilt wove through his purpose—he knew it was a breach of trust—yet the tug of curiosity and concern drowned reason. Sliding from under the covers with exaggerated stealth, he felt