The moment the door clicked shut, my heart sank with it, dropping into some endless void where no sound could reach.
In the middle of the night, I lay alone in the guest room. Then a sound crept through the silence and into my ears.
I got out of bed and followed it to the hallway. It was coming from the master bedroom.
The woman's voice was syrupy, dripping with a sweetness designed to dissolve bone.
"Stop, you're too worked up. Caroline's right next door. What if she hears us?"
The man's voice was raw, thick with desire.
"Relax. The soundproofing in this place is top-notch. I already shut the door. She can't hear a thing."
"Lena... my Lena. What am I going to do with you..."
He kept murmuring her name, but his movements never slowed.
I had never seen Barnaby like this. Unraveled. Out of control.
In five years together, even in bed, he had always been gentle. Restrained. I'd assumed that was simply who he was, that passion ran cool in his veins.
Now I understood. It wasn't that he lacked fire. The person who could light it just was never me.
And then Lena's gaze drifted, her eyes heavy-lidded, and locked directly onto mine through the gap in the door.
In that instant, everything became perfectly clear.
Barnaby said he'd shut the door. But it was open. The gap was exactly wide enough for me to see everything inside.
Lena had left it open on purpose.
I met her taunting stare, felt a hollow laugh rise in my chest, and pulled the door shut myself.
I booked a flight for the next morning, then fell into a thick, dreamless sleep.
When I woke, the house was silent. Whether they were still in bed or had gone out, I had no idea.
I didn't care enough to find out. I walked straight to the courtyard and stood there, staring blankly at the osmanthus tree.
Barnaby had planted it before we moved in.
Right after graduating college, I'd begged my parents to take me on a graduation trip.
But on the road, we were in a terrible car accident. The driver, my mom, my dad. All three of them died.
I'd been badly injured. When I finally woke up, I was in an underground auction house in a Southeast Asian black-market district.
Just when I thought my life would end there, Barnaby saved me.
But even after the rescue, I developed severe PTSD. I stayed locked inside the house, crying day after day. I wouldn't go out, wouldn't see anyone, wouldn't eat.