And Ashton had hidden them underneath our bed.

I looked back toward the suitcase.

Was he planning to leave?

Had he packed his belongings because he’d already made his decision?

Then I noticed another folded paper inside the envelope.

At the top was a name I didn’t recognize.

Rebecca.

I began reading.

“Rebecca, I’ve been thinking about everything we discussed, and I can’t continue pretending that my marriage is fine.”

My stomach tightened.

Who was Rebecca?

Was there another woman?

Suddenly, I remembered Ashton’s late-night phone calls, his distracted expression, and conversations that stopped whenever I entered the room.

Only the previous week, I’d heard him whisper into his phone:

“I’ll figure something out.”

I’d assumed he was talking about work.

Now I wasn’t so sure.

I called my closest friend, Megan.

She had supported me throughout my rehabilitation and knew how difficult the past few months had been.