“I’m just saying… your husband’s been working late. You said he’s been unusually cheerful in the mornings.”
“I said don’t,” I repeated, squeezing my eyes shut.
I didn’t want to think it. I refused to think it. Not him. Not in our own bedroom.
But that night, lying awake staring at the ceiling while my husband slept beside me, I couldn’t stop the thoughts. I reached for my phone and searched for small hidden cameras.
Earliest delivery—three weeks.