Chapter 1

On that rainy afternoon, I was rummaging through the trunk of Ethan’s car, looking for a spare umbrella.

There were two. One was a large, black golf umbrella that I had bought for him last year. The other was a pastel yellow folding umbrella with a little rubber duck keychain dangling from the handle.

I hate yellow. And I hate keychains. He knew that.

I took the black one and walked to the office in the pouring rain.

At noon, he sent me a message on Snapchat: "There was an umbrella in the trunk. Didn't you see it?"

I replied, "I did. Took the black one."

It took him an hour to reply with a single word: "K."

That single "K" told me everything.

***

After work, I opened the yellow umbrella and left it to dry on the balcony.

When he walked through the front door and saw it, his footsteps paused.

I called out from the kitchen, "That’s a cute umbrella. Yellow isn't really my color, though. You should ask whose it is and return it."

The living room went dead silent.

He didn't say a word.

***

"It belongs to the new intern teacher at school," Ethan said as the bathroom door closed, his voice barely cutting through the sound of the running shower. "She was carpooling with me and left it behind. Don't start overthinking things again."

I stood on the balcony, motionless.

The little duck keychain shook slightly as water dripped from the canopy. One of its black plastic eyes was glued on crooked, and there was a messy seam of hot glue at the corner of its mouth—the unmistakable mark of a cheap prize won from a claw machine.

Last month, at the mall.

Ethan had queued for half an hour while my legs grew stiff from standing. The moment the claw finally grabbed it, he grinned like he’d won the lottery. I reached out to look at it, but he quickly slipped it into his pocket.

"Not this one," he had said. "It’s a birthday gift for the department head’s daughter."

The department head’s daughter. Right.

I closed the umbrella, folded it neatly, and placed it in the corner of the balcony.

The shower stopped. He walked out wrapped in a towel, water still dripping from his hair, and sat on the couch to scroll through his phone.

"What’s the intern’s name?" I asked.

"Chloe," he said without looking up. "Just a fresh grad. She can't afford a car yet, and she looked so pitiful in the storm. I just gave her a ride because it was on the way."

His school was on the Eastside. Our place was on the Westside.

I just said, "Oh."

He finally looked up. "It was seriously just a ride. Don't make a big deal out of it."

"I'm not."

I walked back into the bedroom.

His car keys were sitting on the nightstand. I picked them up, locked them inside my vanity drawer, and hid the key.

***

The next morning, I got up at six, made some coffee, and toasted some bagels.

When he sat down to eat, I casually said, "I need the car today. Take the subway."

"What for?"

"Groceries."

He chewed his bagel, didn't ask anything else, grabbed his bag, and left.

I didn't go to the grocery store.

Instead, I went down to the garage. The passenger seat of his car had been adjusted. It was pushed two notches forward from where I usually kept it. I’m 5'6". That position was meant for someone barely 5'2".

I leaned down and reached into the gap beneath the floor mat. My fingers brushed against a crumpled piece of paper.

I smoothed it out.

It was a medical receipt from a private women's clinic. Prenatal checkup. Last Wednesday at 2:00 PM.

Last Wednesday, Ethan told me he had a mandatory school-wide seminar. He hadn't gotten home until 9:00 PM, claiming he was too exhausted to even move.

I crumpled the paper back into its exact shape and stuffed it back under the mat.

***

When I got home, his iPad was charging on the living room table.

The passcode was still my birthday.

His Snapchat was logged in. The top chat on his feed was with Chloe.

Her latest message read:

"Hey Ethan, your wife didn't get mad about the umbrella, did she? I can come over and explain it to her myself if you want! I just get so car-sick if I don't sit in the front seat... I'm sure she's way too sweet to care anyway~"

I scrolled up.

"The lab results are all perfect! Someone owes me a celebration dinner now."

"The baby is totally healthy. Aren't you happy?"

And further up.

September 1st. He was the one who added her first. His first message: "Hi Chloe, welcome to the department. Let me know if you need anything at all."

Three months.

Every single one of her texts was answered within seconds. Faster than he had ever replied to me.

I placed the iPad back exactly where it was, face down, and wiped away my fingerprints.

Then I washed my hands. Three times.

***

When he came home that evening, he called out from the entryway while kicking off his shoes, "Where are the car keys?"

"In the vanity drawer."

"Why did you lock it?"

"Oh, some packages got stolen from the lobby recently. Just wanted to be safe."

He walked to the bedroom door and stared at me for a few seconds.

"I need them tomorrow."

"Sure."

I was folding his shirts, one by one, smoothing the collars, folding the sleeves.

He leaned against the doorframe, his voice dropping. "Clara, what is your deal lately?"

I didn't even look up. "My deal? Like you said, I'm just a housewife. What could I possibly be up to?"

A heavy silence fell over the room.

"By the way," I said softly, "last Wednesday's seminar... what time did it wrap up?"

His throat tightened. He turned and walked away.

This time, he was the one who didn't answer.

***