I wanted to believe those words.
The first night, I noticed the body wash.
Sweet.
Vanilla and cedar.
Christopher had always used unscented nb soap.
He hated perfume-heavy products.
I asked.
“New shower gel?”
He glanced at me.
“Hotel stuff.”
I nodded.
That made sense.
Except he used it again the next day.
From a bottle inside his suitcase.
I said nothing.
Then came the sleeping habit.
Every night, he rolled behind me.
Wrapped both arms around my waist.
Pulled me against his chest.
Some women might have found it affectionate.
I might have too.
If it had been ours.
It wasn’t.
Christopher had never slept like that.
He slept on his back.
Always.
He hated being touched while sleeping.
He used to joke that I radiated too much heat.
Now suddenly he could not fall asleep without holding me from behind.
The first night, I smiled.
The second, I wondered.
The third, I knew.
Not proof.
Not yet.
But knowledge.
Bodies remember people.
Habits travel.
Words travel too.
Christopher started saying things he had never said before.
“Don’t overthink it.”
“Stay soft.”
“You’re cute when you’re jealous.”
He called coffee “morning fuel.”
He started drinking sparkling water with lime.
He suddenly liked eggs with hot sauce.
Every change was small.
Together, they felt like fingerprints.
I did not accuse him immediately.
I had learned something during the years he was away.
Distance makes paranoia easy.
I wanted facts.
So I watched.
Then I found Gwen Vance.
Not by searching his phone.
Christopher guarded that constantly.
I found her in our company expense records.
Yes.
Our company.
That detail mattered.
