Page 39 of Circle of Strangers
I haven’t made love to Will in several days—not since I found the text messages. He tried the other night, but I turned him down for the first time ever, told him I’m too worried about Mara to get into the mood. He let it go. I’ve been emotionally distant since. Another thing I’m blaming on Mara. He’s buying it for now, though I’m not sure how much longer I can string this along. I can pretend with the best of them, it’s what I do, but I draw the line at betrayal.
He doesn’t deserve me.
It isn’t until we round the corner when Sozi clears her throat. “You know, I wasn’t sure if I should mention it, but I saw Will talking to Mara outside the night before she went missing. Not trying to imply anything. I’m sure it’s just a coincidence. But I wanted to say something.”
The words feel like a sudden drop in temperature, cutting through the morning air. I glance at her, trying to keep my expression neutral.
She pulls her phone from her jacket pocket. “Here. I took a couple of pictures. I know that’s weird, I just ... I know how Mara is and I guess I wanted to document it in case she ever made a move on Will. You know me—too much time on my hands.”
She hands me her cell, and my stomach cinches as I scroll through the photos. There, in the grainy light of the streetlamps, is Will—standing by the end of our driveway. And there’s Mara, her body tilted toward his, her face too shadowed to read. They aren’t touching,but they’re close. Closer than I’d have been comfortable with had I been there.
My fingers curl tighter around the phone. I hand it back before I shatter it in my palm.
Sozi shrugs, sliding the phone into her pocket. “It’s odd. Isn’t it?”
“Odd,” I echo, the word sticking like a splinter.
She gives me a look I can’t quite read. “Oh, God. Should I not have shown you those?”
“No,” I say. “It’s just ...”
I trail off, unsure how to finish the sentence. It’s just that I want to scream. It’s just that I feel like the ground beneath my feet is starting to shift, pulling me toward something I don’t want to see. It’s just that the life I’ve worked so hard to create for my family was built on a foundation of lies designed to keep them safe. If Will is having an affair with Mara, if Will has something to do with this ...
We turn another corner, the blacktop street stretching out in front of us, lined with the same pristine houses, the same trimmed hedges and raked rock yards. Any other day, the perfection would be par for the course. Today it’s as if I’ve entered some kind of twilight zone.
None of it feels real.
“I’m not saying they were having an affair or anything,” Sozi says. “But people don’t meet outside late at night for no reason.”
The sun peeks over the horizon, casting long shadows along the sidewalk. I glance toward our house, my heart pounding a little harder than it should be.
“Anyway,” Sozi says, glancing at her watch. “I better get back. Ezra’s got a Zoom lesson in half an hour, and I need to make sure Austin didn’t forget to unmute the mic again.”
We part ways at my driveway, but all of her words linger, curling around my thoughts like smoke.
As I slip back inside the house, I pull my phone from my pocket, scrolling absently through the missed notifications.
Nothing from Mara.
Nothing from Will.
And still no answers—only more questions.
I head upstairs, the house eerily quiet until Will’s voice drifts faintly from the bedroom—he’s on a call for work, the low hum of professional charm. I pause in the hallway, the photos on Sozi’s phone playing in my mind like some highlight reel.
Will and Mara. Late at night. Talking.
Talking about what?
The fact is, they shouldn’t have been talking at all. If I ask him about it, he’ll likely lie, make up something harmless. And at the end of the day, what they were talking about doesn’t matter—it’s the fact that he was talking to her at all, knowing damn well that he wasn’t supposed to, and then failed to mention any of it to me.
The whole thing is a middle finger to our marriage.
A cold knot twists in my gut, and I shove the thought away before it can fully take root. There has to be an explanation. There always is. But the thing about explanations is—they don’t always come when you need them.
Will is an intelligent man. If he had anything to do with Mara’s disappearance, he’s got to be ten steps ahead of me by now.
I reach for the bedroom door handle before stopping halfway.
