The Sinking Intuition
Derek’s voice, muffled through the door, grew increasingly frustrated. He laughed off her concerns with a raspy, dismissive tone, attributing the rash to “nervous hives” brought on by the final push of his project. He pleaded for a “normal” homecoming, for the chance to hold his daughters.
But Leigh stood in the quiet hallway, looking down at her raw, red hands—irritated from constant scrubbing—and realized her husband’s logic didn’t match the evidence before her eyes. Stress didn’t usually look this visceral; travel fatigue didn’t typically result in a rash that looked like it was trying to tell a story. As she heard the babies begin to cry upstairs, a cold, heavy stone of suspicion settled in her stomach. Something was fundamentally wrong, and for the first time in their marriage, Leigh realized that the man behind the door might be bringing home more than just a tired heart.
