I gathered his hands in mine. “You should never have been the one to carry this. None of this is your fault.”
He nodded, though guilt shimmered behind his eyes.
The rest of the afternoon moved in a blur. I printed the messages, saved the files, and organized every piece of evidence into a neat folder. My hands shook at times, but my mind felt strangely clear. Betrayal can destroy a heart, but it can also sharpen it.
By the time Trent returned home that evening, the house looked unchanged. Dinner simmered on the stove. The lights were warm. I greeted him with a smile I barely recognized as my own. He kissed my cheek, made a joke about traffic, and asked about my day. He did not see the storm gathering behind my eyes, but Parker did. He kept glancing at me from across the table, waiting for something he could not name.
I said nothing. Not yet.
The next morning, I rose before dawn. I brewed coffee. I packed Parker’s lunch for school. I placed the envelope of printed evidence on the kitchen table and waited for Trent to come downstairs.