He had said that. He had said exactly that. In the toilet, to Karan, with his voice at the low register that he used when he thought no one outside could hear.
He had said it.
And she had been on the other side of the wall.
He rubbed his forehead against the wheel.
'She was outside the toilet and she heard me and I—'
The phone lit up.
The notification was from a number he didn't recognize. A video attachment. No message.
He picked it up.
He watched it.
The five-second process of a brain trying to reconcile what the eyes were sending with what the brain expected to receive — the way comprehension arrived in stages, the way the first stage was simply confusion, the way the second stage was identification of the elements, the way the third stage was the full-body impact of understanding.
His pregnant wife.
On her knees.
Inside a car he recognized from the parking lot.
Her head moving.
His jaw closed.
His teeth found each other.
