I kept telling myself there had to be a reasonable explanation.
I rubbed my forehead.
But then I remembered something Nathan had said just three days earlier.
That evening, Nathan came home with the children.
Owen excitedly showed me his science project, while Maisie climbed onto my lap.
“Mommy, can you make my hair into two braids tomorrow? Like a princess?”
“Of course, sweetheart.”
Nathan kissed my forehead and began setting the table.
“Do you ever talk to Clara?”
Everything seemed so normal. That almost made it worse.
During dinner, I casually asked, “Nathan, do you ever talk to Clara?”
His fork stopped halfway to his mouth.
“Sometimes. Why?”
“I was just thinking the kids might want to see their mother more often.”
A message appeared.
“Clara’s pretty busy these days. But don’t worry, the kids are fine.”
He changed the subject.
Later, while Nathan was washing dishes, his phone vibrated on the counter.
