As though gathering enough courage to jump off a cliff.
“I prayed you would never have to ask me that question.”
“I am asking now.”
Her eyes opened again.
They were already glistening with tears.
“You deserve the truth.”
The words landed like stones.
My stomach twisted.
“What truth?”
She glanced toward Lucas inside the car.
He was humming to himself while tracing shapes on the fogged-up window.
Completely innocent.
Completely unaware.
Then she looked back at me.
“It isn’t Lucas’s fault.”
“I didn’t say it was.”
“And it isn’t Noah’s fault either.”
My patience snapped.
“I know that.”
“So tell me what is going on.”
She took a shaky breath.
“The truth starts with your husband.”
Every muscle in my body went rigid.
“My husband?”
She nodded.
“Mark.”
Hearing his name from a stranger’s mouth felt strangely intimate.
My chest tightened.
“What does Mark have to do with any of this?”
She lowered her gaze.
“Everything.”
The parking lot suddenly felt too quiet.
Cars moved past.
Parents greeted their children.
Somewhere, a whistle blew from the soccer field.
Yet all I could hear was my own heartbeat.
“I don’t understand.”
“You will.”
She reached into her handbag.
For one terrifying second, I imagined she was about to hand me divorce papers.
Instead, she simply held her phone without unlocking it.
“I promised myself I wouldn’t tell you.”
“You promised who?”
She looked ashamed.
“Mark.”
The name struck me like a slap.
“What?”
“He begged me not to.”
I took an involuntary step backward.
“You know my husband?”
She laughed bitterly.
“I’ve known him for years.”
My breathing became shallow.
“No.”
The word escaped before I even realized I’d spoken.
“No.”
She nodded slowly.
“I begged him to tell you.”
“TELL ME WHAT?”
People walking across the parking lot turned to look.
I didn’t care.
For seven years…
She had said seven years.
Exactly Noah’s age.
My mind desperately tried fitting impossible pieces together.
None of them made sense.
She lowered her voice.
NEXT PAGE
