Evelyn lifted her hand and slapped him.
The sound cracked through the apartment.
“You were supposed to call me!”
Daniel did not defend himself.
“I called you eleven times that night.”
Evelyn opened her mouth, but no words came.
Daniel took out his phone and showed her the call history.
2:13.
2:17.
2:24.
More calls throughout the night.
Every one of them marked declined.
Evelyn remembered that evening in Seattle.
She had been at dinner with senior executives, negotiating a contract that could make her a regional partner.
She had silenced her phone.
The next morning, she had replied with one message:
“I’m at a critical stage in my career. Deal with things at home without me.”
The words were still visible.
Cold.
Precise.
Impossible to forgive.
“You never said it was Noah,” she whispered.
“By the time you finally answered, you said you didn’t want to deal with another family crisis. Noah begged me not to tell you. He believed that if you came home, you would lose the promotion and blame him for it forever.”
