Upstairs, I moved quietly, making sure to stay within earshot. I heard Scarlett’s sharp whisper, filled with barely restrained anger.
“Are you out of your mind? What do you think you’re doing?”
Carter’s reply was soft, pleading. “I miss you, Scarlett. I miss our child.” There was a brief pause before Scarlett hissed, her voice colder now.
“Shut up! The child I’m carrying belongs to my husband. Do you understand?”
But Carter wasn’t deterred. I heard the faint rustle of movement, the unmistakable sound of a kiss.
Perhaps the wedding photos on the walls had fueled his recklessness, but he was relentless, clinging to Scarlett as if she were his lifeline.
Their muffled whispers continued for several agonizing minutes before Scarlett seemed to regain control. “No,” she said firmly, though her voice wavered. “My husband is upstairs. This is insane.”
Carter chuckled lowly. “He’ll never hear us. The master bedroom is on the second floor, and we’re on the first. Come find me when he’s asleep.”
The sound of his arrogance made my blood boil, but I kept my composure. I knocked lightly on the door and entered.
“Captain Brooks,” I said, holding out a set of pajamas. “These were a gift from Scarlett. I haven’t worn them yet. I hope you don’t mind.”
Carter took them, feigning surprise. “If Scarlett picked them out, I’m sure they’re perfect. Thank you, Henry.” His eyes didn’t leave Scarlett, who stood frozen in place, her expression unreadable.
Before I left, Scarlett practically shoved me out of the room, muttering excuses about needing to show Carter around.
***
That night, Scarlett waited until she thought I was asleep before slipping out of bed. She left the bedroom quietly, the soft click of the door closing behind her barely audible.
I didn’t follow. I didn’t need to. Under my roof, in our shared home, their betrayal felt more brazen, more deliberate. Perhaps the thrill of getting away with it was part of the appeal.
But the clock was ticking. Two more days.
The moment the door clicked shut, I opened my eyes. From midnight to early morning, the guest room had been alive with muffled sounds, their voices carrying through the silence.
I had spent the night sitting on the edge of the bed, a cigarette perpetually lit between my fingers. The empty cartons littered the floor, and the acrid scent of smoke clung to the room, making me cough until tears burned my eyes.