“Thank you,” she replied warmly.
“We moved in together a few months ago.”
We.
I nodded, pretending to examine the space while my thoughts raced.
If I confronted her now, she’d panic.
If I confronted Ethan, he’d lie.
I needed everything first.
“So,” I asked lightly, “how long have you two been married?”
She laughed.
“Married? No—we’re engaged. The ring’s being resized.”
The room seemed to tilt.
She led me toward the bedroom, chatting about renovation plans.
On the dresser sat a framed photo—Ethan and her, smiling on a beach. Dated last summer.
The same summer he told me he was away at a work retreat.
Then the bathroom door opened. Steam rolled into the hallway.
“Babe, did you—” Ethan froze when he saw me.
For a split second, all the color drained from his face.
Then I watched the calculation kick in.
“Oh,” he said quickly.
