"Why the sudden interest in these old books?" she asked, her tone overly casual.
I set the book down on the desk, leaning against it to block her path to the damning evidence. "No reason," I said. "I just thought we could use some decluttering."
She stepped closer, her fingers brushing against mine as she picked up the book. Her smile remained sweet, but her grip on it was firm—possessive, almost.
"Darling, you don't need to worry about this. I'll take care of it later." Her tone was breezy, but there was a hint of strain beneath the surface.
With deliberate carelessness, she tossed the book into a drawer, her movements practiced but slightly rushed. Her eyes flicked to me, searching. "You didn't see anything just now, did you?" she asked.
My pulse quickened, but I met her gaze with a bemused expression. "See what?"
She exhaled softly, almost inaudibly, as if relieved. "Nothing important. Just some things I haven't sorted through yet." She moved to the shelf, adjusting a few books that didn't need adjusting. Her hands were steady, but I noticed the way her fingers lingered on certain titles, as if confirming their secrets were still safe.