Barry’s POV

Camelia’s words still sat like a thorn buried under my skin, sharp enough that every movement reminded me it was there. “What business do you have with Alina?” she had asked me, her eyes burning with suspicion, her lips tight with a restraint I recognized far too well. My wife wasn’t a woman prone to dramatics, but she was perceptive, painfully so.

And I hated that her question had weight.

That night had left me restless. I had turned away from her in bed, my back rigid, and listened to the quiet of our house. Every tick of the clock felt louder than her breathing, louder than my...