He froze in the doorway.
“What is this?” I asked.
He glanced down, then away.
“It’s not what you think.”
“Then tell me what it is.”
He stiffened. “I’m not doing this. You’re making it into something it’s not.”
“Money is missing. You’ve been going to that hotel for months. You’re lying,” I said. “About what?”
“You’re supposed to trust me.”
“I did trust you,” I replied. “But you won’t explain anything.”
He shut down completely.
That night, I slept in the guest room. The next morning, I asked again. He still refused.
“I can’t live inside a lie,” I told him. “I can’t pretend I don’t see this.”
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