She stopped at the top of the staircase just as I stepped into view.
One look. That was all it took.
One second of seeing her, my wife, my pregnant wife, standing there alone, flushed from being outside, holding a grocery bag too heavy for her, chest rising a little too quickly…
Every muscle in my body pulled tight.
I didn't shout, didn't move fast or even do anything dramatic.
I just looked at her.
And she knew.
"Mira," I said, my voice low, rough around the edges. "Where were you?"
She swallowed, fingers tightening around the paper bag. "The store."
The store.
Alone.
My chest burned hot, then cold, then hot again.
I kept my voice steady, trying to no let things get out of control. "Did anyone come near you?"
"No." She murmured.
"Did anyone touch you?"
"No." She still couldn't look me in the eye.
I sighed. "Did you feel unsafe?"
Her lips parted, and that tiny hesitation in that fraction of a second made something black coil in my stomach.
