At exactly 11:02, he got up.
Not 10:50. Not 11:15. Exactly the same time. He dressed quietly, took his room key, and left. It is strange how fast your mind can destroy you when you already feel unloved.
By 11:05, I had imagined another woman. By 11:10, I had given her a face. By 11:20, I had built a whole secret life for him. A woman at the resort. A mistress from before. Someone he had been texting while I thought we were fixing things.
Because that made sense to me in the saddest possible way. Not because Daniel had ever cheated, but because some ugly part of me had started believing I was not enough to hold anyone’s attention for very long.
His distance over the last few years had done that to me. Or maybe life had. Maybe age had. Maybe marriage had. I just knew that once suspicion crawled under my skin, I could not pull it back out.
The next morning, I acted normal.
So did he.
He kissed my forehead by the pool. He ordered me a drink with too much pineapple in it because he knew I liked it that way. He asked if I wanted to book a couples massage.
I watched his face the entire time, searching for cracks.
There were none. That scared me more.
On the fourth night, I decided I would follow him. I did not feel proud of it. I felt sick, humiliated, and angry that I had become the kind of wife who watched the clock and tracked footsteps. Angry that he had turned me into someone suspicious and small.
At 11:02, Daniel left again.
I counted to 30 before I slipped out after him.
