Anticlimactic

Eve prepared her mind for the questions, the rounds of interrogations that would follow.

But her husband simply clicked on 'delete' and trashed the message, returning the phone to his pocket, his head reclined against the car seat.

Now that was anticlimactic, or even worse, because now she was battling with various guesses of what could be going on in his mind.

What was he thinking?

Why wasn't he saying anything?

Silence took the head table, the tension so thick she could reach out and slice it.

When it got to a point where it threatened to choke her, Eve parted her lips and broke the silence.

"Alessandro, let's talk about the message you just received."

Her heart was pounding so hard that she could hear it, and he turned to her, his expression unreadable in the semi-darkness.

"Why don't we wait till we get home?"

Gosh, even his voice was impassive, betraying nothing of what he could actually be feeling.

Eve fiddled with the material of her clothes and inhaled deeply, forcing a smile