Chương 3
When I finished, there was a long silence.
Then she asked, “Did you keep the cup?”
I stared at her.
“What?”
“The tea cup.”
I shook my head.
“No. I washed it.”
Claire closed her eyes briefly.
“Okay.”
That one word scared me more than if she had screamed.
“What?”
She looked at me.
“I’m trying not to jump ahead.”
“Claire.”
“I’m trying not to say the worst thing in my head before we know.”
I sat down.
My legs suddenly felt weak.
“Say it.”
She hesitated.
Then she reached for my hand.
“Anna, someone who is trying to secretly record you while you’re unconscious is not doing something harmless.”
The sentence sat between us.
Simple.
Impossible to argue with.
“I know.”
“No,” she said softly.
“You know something is wrong.”
She squeezed my fingers.
“But I don’t think you understand how much.”
A noise came from downstairs.
Both of us froze.
Footsteps.
Marcus.
Claire immediately stood.
I grabbed her arm.
“Don’t.”
She looked at me.
“What do you mean, don’t?”
“Not yet.”
Her expression tightened.
“You’re protecting him.”
The words hurt because they were close to the truth.
“I’m protecting myself.”
That made her pause.
I swallowed.
“If he knows I know, I don’t know what happens next.”
Claire looked away.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then she nodded.
“Okay.”
She took a breath.
“Okay. We do this your way.”
It was the first time all night someone had let me make a decision.
That mattered more than I expected.
We heard Marcus moving downstairs.
A cabinet opened.
Water ran.
Normal sounds.
That was the cruelest part.
He could stand in our kitchen washing a glass while my entire understanding of him collapsed upstairs.
Claire lowered her voice.
“What do you have?”
I looked at my phone.
“The message I sent you.”
“Anything else?”
I shook my head.
“He had a camera.”
“Did you see where he put it?”
“The dresser.”
“Is it still there?”
“I don’t know.”
Claire walked carefully toward the window and looked outside.
Her car was visible from the driveway.
“If we leave right now, does he notice?”
“Yes.”
“If we stay?”
“I don’t know.”
She turned back.
That was the problem.
Neither of us knew.
We were no longer dealing with a bad argument or a marriage problem.
We were trying to make decisions without knowing the rules.
Claire sat back down.
“Do you have your important stuff?”
“What?”
“Passport. Money. Documents.”
I almost laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because the question sounded like something from another person's life.
A life where people had plans for leaving.
“I’m not leaving my house in the middle of the night.”
“I didn’t say forever.”
“I know.”
The truth was I wasn’t ready to leave.
That embarrassed me.
I hated that some part of me still wanted to walk downstairs and hear Marcus explain everything.
I wanted him to have an explanation.
A terrible one.
A ridiculous one.
Anything that allowed me to return to the version of my life I understood.
Claire watched my face.
“You still love him.”
I looked down.
“Yes.”
She nodded slowly.
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
“I do.”
Her voice softened.
“That’s what makes this harder.”
A few minutes later, Marcus knocked on the guest room door.
My entire body went cold.
Claire looked at me.
I shook my head.
She stepped back.
“Anna?”
Marcus’s voice came through the door.
Normal.
Warm.
“Are you awake?”
I didn't answer.
Claire mouthed, “Don’t.”
I knew.
I knew I shouldn't.
But hearing his voice made something inside me crack.
“Yeah,” I finally said.
The pause on the other side was small.
Almost invisible.
But I heard it.
A hesitation.
A calculation.
“What are you doing in there?”
I looked at Claire.
She stared back.
“Claire came over.”
Another pause.
“Oh.”
Just one sound.
But it carried something.
Not surprise.
Disappointment.
Like an unexpected problem had appeared.
“Is everything okay?” Marcus asked.
Claire stepped closer to the door.
I could see anger in her face.
I shook my head.
Not yet.
I needed to know more.
“I wasn’t feeling well,” I said.
“I called her.”
Marcus’s voice softened.
“You should have told me.”
The sentence almost made me laugh.
Because that was the thing about him.
He could make concern sound exactly like care.
“I didn’t want to wake you.”
“That’s not true.”
My hand tightened.
“What?”
“You don’t call Claire unless something is really wrong.”
The hallway became silent.
Claire looked at me.
Marcus knew me.
That was what made this terrifying.
He knew my habits.
My fears.
My patterns.
He knew exactly how I behaved when I was scared.
And now I wondered how long he had been using that knowledge against me.
“I’m tired,” I said.
“Let’s talk tomorrow.”
Another pause.
Then Marcus said, “Okay.”
His footsteps moved away.
We waited.
Five minutes.
Ten.
Claire finally spoke.
“He knows.”
I nodded.
“I know.”
“No, Anna.”
She looked toward the door.
“He knows something changed.”
I rubbed my face.
“I need to find out what he’s doing.”
Claire stared at me.
“Why?”
The question surprised me.
“Because I need proof.”
“You need safety.”
“I need both.”
She didn't argue.
Maybe because she knew me well enough to understand that telling me to run would only make me stand still.
Around four in the morning, after Marcus’s bedroom door closed, we searched quietly.
Not the whole house.
Just what we could reach without making noise.
The camera was gone.
That scared me more than if it had still been there.
Someone who panicked would make mistakes.
Marcus did not panic.
He cleaned.
He removed evidence.
In the office, Claire found the first thing that changed everything.
It was not hidden.
It was sitting in a drawer beneath a stack of printer paper.
A notebook.
My name was written on the first page.
Not once.
Many times.
Dates followed each entry.
Sleep patterns.
Mood changes.
Medications.
May you like
Conversations.
At first, I thought it was a journal.
