Page 42 of A Touch of Fate

I tried not to let my imagination run rampant, but a nagging voice suggested Samuel used a second phone for a mistress. It wasn’t uncommon for men in our world to have a mistress. Many of them were there before the marriage.

I could only imagine what my mother would say if I suggested Samuel had an affair. She’d implore me to turn a blind eye to it and be happy for this good catch. I took a deep breath and hoisted myself into the bed. I had half a mind to call Giorgia, but I didn’t want to wake her with unfounded suspicions, and Samuel could return any moment.

I could simply ask Samuel.

Samuel emerged from the bathroom at that moment, but instead of coming to the bed right away, he walked toward the walk-in closet and put something in the pocket of the jacket he would wear tomorrow.

My belly tightened.

When Samuel finally climbed into bed, I couldn’t bring myself to confront him.

Instead, I gave him a shaky smile.

He hesitated as if he wanted to say something, but then he returned my smile. “Sleep well.” Again, he hesitated.

He turned off the light and rolled over to face away from me.

I swallowed hard, agitated. My stomach churned as if I’d eaten too much and topped it off with soda.

As expected, we fell asleep on our respective sides of the bed without any physical contact.

I wasn’t sure when I actually fell asleep. My mind kept obsessing over Samuel’s second phone. I had to find out what it was about. I couldn’t confront Samuel if I didn’t have any hints.

And even then…

Samuel’s alarm woke me. He got up before I had even managed to open my eyes. Being an early bird was definitely harder after I had wine.

I sat up and quickly slid into my wheelchair. Samuel disappeared into the bathroom and closed the door.

With a cautious glance at the closed door, I hurried toward the walk-in closet.

Samuel’s taupe jacket hung from a coat stand. I reached up and fumbled for the pocket. When I felt something solid, I tried to reach in. I pushed myself up and finally managed to grip the phone. I listened closely. The water in the bathroom was still running. I stared at the screen. When I touched the screen, I could see the beginning of a Whatsapp message from a person called F. The message read: When can we see each other again?

My pulse raced as my thoughts tumbled over each other. What swipe gesture had Samuel used to unlock his other phone? Maybe it was the same for this.

I tried an inverted L, but that didn’t work. Then an L with a 45 degree angle instead of ninety, but still nothing.

The click of the doorknob being turned made me look up. The shower wasn’t running anymore. I pushed up and shoved the phone back into the jacket pocket then plopped down. I didn’t have time to move out of the walk-in closet though before Samuel walked out of the bathroom. His eyes moved from the vacant bed to me. His brows puckered. “Are you looking for something?”

“Uh, I forgot that my clothes still haven’t been moved out of my luggage.”

I motioned to the three suitcases beside my side of the bed.

Samuel gave a slow nod. He came toward me, only in boxers. With the narrow space of the closet, he stood very close to me as he grabbed his white shirt and suit from the hangers. After having read the message from F., having him so close was difficult. I wheeled out so he could dress. I could feel his eyes on me as I rummaged through the suitcase, which lay propped up on a suitcase holder.

“I’m in a hurry. I don’t think we’ll have time to have breakfast together.”

“That’s okay,” I said without looking up from my suitcase as if I had to solve a difficult math equation and not just pick an outfit for the day.

“All right,” he said slowly. After a moment of silence, he finally walked out.

I sucked in a deep breath and closed my eyes against the deep sense of despair. I balled my hands to fists and counted to five until I had a grip on myself. During the desperate moments of my recovery, I’d often counted to five, ten, or sometimes evenmuch higher to calm myself. When I opened my eyes again, I felt more in control.

I picked my favorite summer dress with a floral print and spaghetti straps. I stayed barefoot, not in the mood to wear the same shoes as yesterday, and the others were still downstairs in packages.

Without Samuel at the table, I chatted with Giorgia during breakfast and told her what I’d witnessed. She messaged me back at once.

That’s suspicious. But there could still be another explanation.

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