I cried in my husband’s arms at the airport as he boarded what he claimed was a two-year work assignment in Zurich

“I was trying to understand what he was doing.”

“Why?”

“Because my sister is Melanie Harper.”

That name dropped between us like glass breaking.

For a few seconds, I could not speak.

I had imagined Melanie in fragments: the other woman, the smiling coworker in holiday party photos, the person Lucas texted too late at night, the woman who had taken what was mine. I had not imagined her having a sister. A family. Someone worried enough to follow her.

Grace exhaled shakily.

“Anne, I know what you found on his laptop. I know about the condo. I know about the pregnancy. But there are pieces you don’t have.”

My voice came out quieter than I expected.

“Is Melanie with him?”

“No.”

That surprised me.

“She isn’t?”

“She thinks he’s in Zurich.”

I sat back down.