Sweet.
Artificial.
My stomach turned.
I stayed where I was.
I didn’t move.
I didn’t speak.
Until Sophie stepped out.
Wrapped tightly in a towel.
Head down.
Just like always.
I knelt immediately.
“Hey, baby,” I said softly.
She looked up at me—and for a brief second, something flickered in her eyes.
Relief.
Then it disappeared.
“I’m tired,” she whispered.
“I know,” I said, pulling her into my arms. “It’s okay.”
Behind me, I heard Mark moving downstairs.
Calm.
Unbothered.
Like nothing had happened.
Like nothing was wrong.
But something was wrong.
And now—
I wasn’t going to ignore it anymore.
A knock exploded at the front door.
Loud.
Sharp.
Authoritative.
Mark’s footsteps stopped.
Everything froze.
Then came the voice.
“Police! Open the door!”
Mark turned slowly toward the hallway.
Toward me.
His expression changed.
Just slightly.
Just enough.
And in that moment—
