“What did you find,” I asked.
There was a pause, then a breath drawn.
“A small packet with pills, and a plastic card that looks like a hotel key. We did not touch anything more than necessary.”
For a moment, I could not speak. My thoughts scattered, searching for explanations that might soften what I was hearing, but none of them felt real enough to hold onto.
“Are you sure it belongs to him,” I finally asked.
“Yes,” she replied quickly. “His name is stitched inside the shirt.”
I drove back to the cleaners without remembering the route, my hands tight on the wheel, my mind racing ahead to conclusions I did not yet want to claim. Inside, the woman slid a clear bag across the counter, her eyes avoiding mine. Inside were several white tablets and a hotel key card marked with the logo of Seabrook Harbor Hotel.
Something inside me went very still. Tucked against the plastic was a folded piece of paper, creased and faded from the wash but still legible. The handwriting was unmistakable.
“Thursday. Same place. Do not tell anyone.”
Thursday was the day of my fertility appointments, the day Matthew insisted on driving me, the day he always needed to stop somewhere afterward while I waited in the car, drained and silent.
I left without saying much, the bag heavy in my purse, the city suddenly too loud and bright, as if the world had not received the message that my life had just fractured.
At home, I laid everything on the table, arranging the pieces like a puzzle I did not want to finish. I searched the pill markings online, my hands trembling as the result appeared on the screen, confirming what my stomach already knew.
The medication was commonly used to end pregnancies.
The room tilted, and I sat down hard in the chair, my breath coming in shallow pulls. I remembered the two times I had been prescribed the same drug after miscarriages that left me hollow and bleeding, supported by a doctor who spoke gently and told me it was not my fault. I remembered Matthew holding my hand afterward, his voice low and sympathetic, his eyes focused somewhere far away.
My phone buzzed with a message.
“Running behind tonight. Do not wait up.”
I did not reply.
I drove to the hotel instead.