My husband refused to let me open the car trunk for days, and when I finally discovered what he was hiding, I was stunned.

When she reached the car, she waited for a moment, listening to the hum of the refrigerator in the corner, the settling creaks of the house. Then she pressed the button. The trunk clicked open.

Inside were bags, tools, a stack of old tarps, and a layer of powdery dust clinging to everything. Not dangerous. Not alarming.

But strange. Out of place. Definitely not groceries or sports gear or anything she’d ever seen Adam bring home before.

She touched one of the bags, feeling grit between her fingers. Cement dust? Wood shavings?

She couldn’t tell. Her mind spun in circles, jumping between practical explanations and wild ones — renovations, secret hobbies, borrowed equipment, something broken he was embarrassed about, or something bigger he wasn’t ready to say out loud. Celia closed the trunk and stood there for a long time, arms wrapped around herself, staring at the car as though it held the answers.Continue reading…