“You okay?”

“Just tired.”

Roy went to bed early. Surgeons learned to sleep whenever possible.

I lay beside him, listening to his breathing and feeling strangely disconnected from the man I’d married.

At midnight, I slipped out of bed and retrieved his phone from the nightstand.

I knew the passcode. It was our anniversary.

That detail stung when I opened his messages and discovered a conversation with Tessa.

I expected romantic exchanges.

Instead, the first message was a threat.

You have until Friday to tell your mother that the baby is yours. If you don’t, I’ll tell her myself. You know she’ll believe me.

My stomach tightened, though not for the reason I’d anticipated.

I scrolled through the conversation. Tessa had sent numerous messages, while Roy’s responses were brief and cold.

Stop contacting me.

I don’t know you.

Do not text me again.