He demanded my whereabouts, questioning my delay.
Eventually, his frustration and embarrassment fused into anger, and in one heated text, he lashed out with curses. Henry: [Are you fucking messing with me?]
I pondered his words, struggling to reconcile this man with the tender husband I once knew.
It was a stark reminder: people could wear masks.
Love could be feigned.
After breakfast, I crafted a reply to Henry.
Nicole: [I'm sorry. My car broke down on my way to you. It's only just been fixed. Where are you now? Should I come to get you?]
Daylight now bathed the world.
Even the remote road would be alive with activity.
The likelihood of him lashing out at me once more seemed nearly insurmountable.
As expected, Henry swiftly replied. Henry: [No need. I've managed to hail a taxi.]
A smile played on my lips as I set the phone down.
Henry wouldn't be coming home just yet.
He sent yet another message, informing me that there were matters at the company demanding his attention, and only after wrestling with those would he make his way back home.
Ignoring his excuses, I ventured downstairs to the supermarket, where I purchased two cameras and two voice recorders.