My sister kissed my husband in front of thirty people at her own anniversary party and called it a joke. Her husband had a wrapped present in his hands and an envelope she had never opened.

Normal things.

Because downstairs, everything had stopped being normal.

I went back down.

Callan was waiting in the hallway.

“Bryony.”

I walked past him.

“Please.”

I stopped.

Turned around.

“Give me your phone.”

He froze.

“What?”

“Your phone.”

“Why?”

“Because if there’s nothing there, you have nothing to worry about.”

He looked at Sasha.

She was standing near the kitchen doorway.

She looked at him.

That was all I needed.

There was another phone.

I didn’t know where.

But I knew there was one.

For the next two hours, nobody spoke to me about it.

People left.

My parents took the children home with them.

Bram stayed.

Sasha stayed.

Callan stayed.

Eventually, the house became quiet.

At around nine that evening, Callan went upstairs to shower.

I watched him disappear.

Then I remembered his overnight bag.

I found it beside the wardrobe.

I opened it.

Clothes.

Toiletries.

A charger.