Page 62 of Override

He laughs softly at something someone says through the speakerphone. Normal. Completely normal. Like nothing happened at all.

The realization should calm me. Instead it somehow makes everything worse.

Because if it isn’t Ronan—then who the hell is it?

My phone feels heavy in my hand as I make my way back toward the bedroom.

The entire estate feels different now, less stable somehow. Like the walls shifted slightly while I wasn’t looking.

I should delete the messages.

The thought follows me into the bedroom while I stare at my phone again beneath the dim bedside lamp.

A shaky laugh almost escapes me at the absurdity of it before fear swallows it again.

Because none of this is romantic. None of this is safe. And yet…

Please don’t cry.

Something painful twists beneath my ribs at the memory of it. I slide the phone beneath my pillow before I can talk myself out of it.

Then immediately hate myself for doing it.

By the time Ronan finally comes upstairs nearly an hour later, every muscle in my body feels wound too tight. I shut my eyes quickly the second I hear the bedroom door open. Pretend to be asleep. Breathe evenly. Don’t panic.

The room fills with familiar sounds.

Ronan shoes hitting the floor near the chair. The bathroom door opening.

Normal. Everything sounds horribly normal.

Water runs briefly in the sink before silence settles again. Then footsteps cross slowly through the bedroom toward the bed.

Closer. Closer.

My heartbeat pounds so hard I’m terrified he’ll hear it through the blankets.

I brace instinctively for anger. For disappointment. For the who were you talking to?

Instead the mattress dips slightly beneath his weight. That’s all. No accusations. No confrontation.

Just the quiet rustle of blankets while Ronan settles beside me in the dark.

I keep my breathing painfully even.

Please don’t say anything. Please don’t say anything. Please—Ronan exhales tiredly beside me before the bedside lamp clicks off.

Darkness swallows the room.

And lying there beside my husband while the unknown number burns like a secret beneath my pillow—And that's almost worse.

Because if this wasn’t him—then someone else is inside my life.

***

I barely sleep. Every time I drift off, I wake again convinced someone is standing over the bed watching me.

By morning my nerves feel scraped raw beneath my skin.