Chapter 3

Once I recognized Vanessa's handwriting, I realized most of what filled those two boxes had come from her.

They saw each other every day, and yet they'd still chosen to write letters to each other.

A boy's shy, tentative overtures; a girl's answers laced with a hint of insecurity—it was all there, plain as day, between the lines.

Letters, postcards, scraps of paper, bookmarks, even candy wrappers—he'd kept every piece of her he could.

I flipped to the class photo on the first page of the yearbook and found her.

She'd been thin, so thin, barely a speck in the crowd.

Her almond-shaped eyes drooped slightly at the corners, giving her a soft look.

Our eyes looked alike.

I sank down onto the floor, and the tears came without warning.

Was I just another item in his collection of Vanessa Reed?

At the end of her graduation message, she'd written: Some things will never change. I'll see you again.

All those days and nights we'd spent together—had he been hoping for a reunion with Vanessa the whole time?

Looking at the weight of their shared past, Grayson suddenly felt like a stranger to me.

Once I'd gone through everything, I put it all back exactly where I'd found it.

I kept telling myself to stay calm, but the tears wouldn't stop.

Then my stomach cramped.

I scrambled up, ran to the bathroom, and retched over the toilet, a dull ache spreading through my abdomen.

Had the little life inside me sensed something?

I pressed a hand to my stomach, and my heart ached along with it. After all this, could I still keep this baby?

That evening, Grayson came home early for the first time in a month.

"I passed by that place you like and picked up a strawberry cake."

He set the cake down and reached for me, but I stepped out of his way.

"Still upset?"

He circled around to face me, studying my expression.

"Were you crying today?" His voice had gone soft.

I'd cried for most of the day. There was no hiding it now.

I had no idea, deep down, how to face him, so I looked away.

Grayson read my silence as a sign I was softening, that I'd been hurt and wanted comfort.

He spoke with a note of conciliation. "I looked into a policy recently that's perfect for you. I want to buy it for you as a sixth-anniversary gift. Want to go meet the agent with me tomorrow?"

I hesitated, then nodded.

It would be a lie to say six years of feeling could be let go of so easily. I wasn't ready to end things with him just on my own suspicions.

He was my husband, and the father of the child inside me. Whether we stayed together or not would affect that child's future. I really couldn't afford to act on impulse.

The meeting with the agent was arranged at the insurance office.

The moment I laid eyes on this so-called agent, a flash of white light went off in my head.

It was her. Vanessa.

Compared to high school, she'd filled out, her cheeks fuller now, her hair styled in loose waves, and her eyes carried more confidence, catching the light no matter where she turned.

Grayson and Vanessa went over the contract details with total composure. Neither of them slipped up once.

I sat there quietly beside them. Nobody bothered to ask my opinion.

Once the contract was settled, Vanessa added me on social media herself.

I couldn't resist scrolling through her feed as I walked out.

Her profile was completely public, full of posts showing off a rich, upbeat life.

I saw that the day after Grayson received that first text, she'd posted: [The longest dream of my girlhood has finally come true.]

The photo showed an enormous bouquet of deep red roses, with a lavishly decorated hotel room in the background. Only a sliver of Grayson's sleeve showed in the shot, but I recognized it instantly.

That same night, I'd caught the scent of flowers on his clothes.

He'd told me a business partner had sent flowers to the office.

Fool that I was, I'd actually believed him.

In that moment, I didn't feel the devastation I might have expected—just a strange, loosening relief. A whole day's worth of worry seemed to lift off my shoulders.

I could finally let go of him completely.

I gave a bitter laugh and rested a hand on my stomach, trying to feel for the faintest flutter of movement.

I wasn't going to keep enduring a marriage with Grayson. If I did, knowing myself, I'd spend the rest of my life imagining exactly what the two of them had done behind closed doors, and I'd never know peace.

And he would never give me the answer.