The morning sun cut through the curtains like a blade, too bright for the secret I was holding inside me.

“Why are you up so early?” his voice drifted from the bed, low and rough from sleep.

I faked a smile over my shoulder. “Couldn’t sleep.”

He reached for me but stopped halfway, the way he always did now, torn between warmth and ice. “Come back. It’s Sunday.”

“I have things to do,” I said quickly, pulling the robe tighter around me to hide the small paper bag ...