It was Sophia.
I’d been trying to conceive for two months, and she had returned from abroad at exactly the same time.
From her very first day back, every night at eleven, she would call and ask William to sleep beside her.
At first, I argued and even threatened: if William stepped out the door, he shouldn’t bother coming back.
But he always coaxed me gently:
“Anna, Sophia has needed me to stay by her side since childhood. During all those years abroad, she couldn’t sleep without me. Now that she’s back, I can’t just ignore her insomnia.”
When I refused, he promised:
“I’ll only stay with her for three months, I swear. Once the time is up, I’ll never go again.”
“And besides, I told you—Sophia has a phobia of men. Nothing will ever happen between us.”
After hanging up, he kissed my forehead, grabbed his coat, and left.
Tonight, I was glad he went out quickly—because I wanted to see what he had really replaced my folic acid with.
When I opened that cabinet, I tried to comfort myself:
Maybe he secretly swapped it with a more expensive supplement, afraid I wouldn’t buy it for myself.
Inside were several unopened bottles of folic acid. I opened one.
It was exactly the same as Kelly’s.