She walked in without knocking.
Tajia only does that when something feels wrong.
“You didn’t answer me,” she said the second she stepped inside.
“I had detectives here,” I told her.
Her entire posture changed.
“They came here?”
Lucy glanced around the apartment — the untouched coffee, the scattered papers, the quiet TV screen still glowing in the corner.
“What did they want?” she asked.
“Questions about Michael,” I said. “Work. Travel. Clients.”
Tajia watched me too carefully.
“I don’t like this.”
“You don’t like anything involving Michael.”
“That’s not true,” she said quietly. “I pay attention.”
Then she said something that stayed with me long after the conversation ended.
“They don’t start investigations with accusations,” she said.
“They start with patterns.”
The word hung in the room.
Michael always checked in.
He always knew where I was.
He always stayed calm — even when I handed him divorce papers.
Tajia folded her arms, studying me.
“If he calls tonight,” she said, “tell me.”
“Why?”
“Because something feels off… and I don’t want you handling it alone.”
For the first time since the detectives left, a thought crept in that I didn’t want to consider.
What if the person I trusted the most… was the one everyone else was starting to question?
My Husband’s Secret is a psychological suspense story about trust, patterns, and the terrifying moment you realize you might not know someone as well as you thought.
