Chapter 2: The Room My Wife Wasn't Supposed to Enter
I didn't sleep much that night.
At 7:15 p.m., I told Vanessa that Maya and I were going to spend the evening at my brother Daniel's house.
Vanessa barely looked up from her phone.
"Fine. I have plans anyway.""
"Plans?""
"Dinner with Olivia.""
Olivia was her closest friend. They had known each other long before Vanessa and I married.
I studied my wife's face.
"You're not worried about Maya's arm?""
Vanessa rolled her eyes.
"Marcus, the doctor put a cast on it. She's fine.""
"She's been through a lot today.""
"Then perhaps you should stop making everything about Emily.""
I said nothing.
I simply picked up Maya's backpack and carried it outside.
At Daniel's house, Maya finally relaxed.
My brother opened the door wearing sweatpants and holding a half-eaten sandwich.
"Well, this is unexpected.""
"Can we stay tonight?""
Daniel's smile disappeared when he saw Maya's cast.
"What happened?""
"Long story.""
He stepped aside.
"Come in.""
Maya immediately went to the living room and curled up beneath a blanket.
Daniel followed me into the kitchen.
"Marcus, tell me what's going on.""
I placed the photograph on the counter.
He studied it.
"Who did this?""
"Vanessa, apparently.""
His eyes narrowed.
"Apparently?""
I told him about the backyard, the writing on the cast, the photograph, and the message I had received.
When I finished, Daniel leaned against the counter.
"Have you considered that Vanessa might be doing something with Emily's belongings?""
"I hadn't.""
"Marcus, you know how Vanessa reacted when you first mentioned keeping Emily's things.""
I remembered.
It had been six months after Emily died. Vanessa had complained that the house felt like a museum.
She wanted the photographs removed.
She wanted Emily's clothes donated.
She wanted Maya to stop asking to visit the cemetery.
At the time, I had mistaken her behavior for insecurity.
Daniel rubbed his forehead.
"Did you ever actually see what happened to Emily's things?""
I shook my head.
"Vanessa said she handled it.""
"That's not an answer.""
He was right.
And that bothered me more than anything.
I called my daughter's pediatrician the next morning and arranged for Maya's arm to be checked again.
The doctor confirmed that the fracture was healing normally. He also asked whether Maya had been experiencing stress at home.
I hesitated.
Then I told him enough to explain why I was concerned.
He recommended documenting the incidents and speaking with a child therapist.
I agreed.
By noon, Maya was sitting at Daniel's kitchen table drawing pictures.
She had drawn three people holding hands.
Me.
Herself.
And Emily.
Vanessa was nowhere in the picture.
I didn't blame her.
At 2:30 p.m., I received another message from the unknown number.
*Have you checked the desk?*
I typed back.
*Who is this?*
The response came immediately.
*Someone who should have spoken sooner.*
Before I could reply, the number sent another message.
*The blue room. Bottom drawer. There's a reason Vanessa doesn't want Maya remembering what happened before Emily died.*
My pulse quickened.
I called Vanessa.
She answered after four rings.
"Yes?""
"I'm coming home to get some of Maya's things.""
"Why?""
"Because she needs her schoolbooks.""
"They're here.""
"I'll get them myself.""
A pause.
"Marcus, I don't appreciate you treating me like a suspect.""
"I haven't accused you of anything.""
"Your behavior says otherwise.""
I ended the call.
Daniel offered to come with me, but I refused.
I didn't want Maya hearing another argument.
Besides, I needed to know what was inside that room.
When I arrived home, Vanessa's car was gone.
The house was quiet.
I walked upstairs.
The blue room was at the end of the hallway.
The door was locked.
I stared at it for a moment.
Emily used to keep her sewing supplies in there. She had painted the walls a soft blue because she said the color reminded her of the ocean.
I still remembered the day she finished decorating it.
Maya had been five.
She'd run around the room holding a paintbrush, leaving tiny blue fingerprints on the windowsill.
Emily had laughed.
I swallowed hard.
Then I went downstairs, found the spare key in the utility drawer, and returned.
The lock turned.
The door opened.
I stepped inside.
The room smelled faintly of lavender.
The furniture was still there.
Emily's desk.
Her reading chair.
A small bookshelf.
But something was wrong.
The photographs had been removed from the walls.
The curtains were new.
And every drawer except the bottom one had been emptied.
I walked toward the desk.
The bottom drawer resisted when I pulled it.
Something was blocking it.
I tugged harder.
A small wooden box slid forward.
Inside were several envelopes, a hospital wristband, and a thin black notebook.
I picked up the notebook.
Emily's handwriting covered the first page.
September 14.
I don't know how to explain what happened today.
My throat tightened.
I sat in Emily's old chair and continued reading.
Vanessa came to the house again. She said she wanted to help with Maya while I was resting. Marcus trusts her because she is his friend from work, but something about her makes me uncomfortable.
I stopped.
Vanessa had told me she barely knew Emily before we married.
I turned the page.
She asked about my life insurance today. She wanted to know who would receive the money if something happened to me.
My stomach dropped.
Emily had died two years before Vanessa and I married.
I turned another page.
I told her Marcus would manage everything. She became angry and said I was making things difficult.
There was more.
Several pages described small incidents.
A missing house key.
An argument over Maya's medication.
A disagreement about Emily's sister, Claire.
Then I reached the final entry.
October 3.
I found something in Vanessa's purse today. I wish I hadn't.
The writing became hurried.
I think she's been reading my medical records. She knows something about my treatment that I never told her.
I leaned closer.
If anything happens to me, Marcus needs to know that I didn't trust Vanessa.
A sound came from the hallway.
I looked up.
The bedroom door stood open.
Vanessa was standing there.
Her handbag hung from one shoulder.
Her face had gone completely pale.
"What are you doing?""
I closed the notebook.
"Looking for Maya's schoolbooks.""
She stared at the desk.
Then at the wooden box.
"Put that down.""
"Why?""
"Because it's private.""
I slowly stood.
"It's Emily's.""
"Exactly. It's none of your business anymore.""
I couldn't believe what I was hearing.
"She was my wife.""
"And she's dead, Marcus.""
The words came out so casually that I felt physically sick.
I stepped closer.
"Why were you going through her medical records?""
Vanessa's expression changed.
For the first time since I'd known her, she looked genuinely frightened.
"Who told you that?""
I held her gaze.
"Answer the question.""
She laughed nervously.
"This is ridiculous.""
I opened the notebook again.
"Did Emily know you were asking about her life insurance?""
Vanessa moved toward me.
"Give me that.""
"No.""
"Marcus, stop.""
She reached for the notebook.
I pulled it away.
Then she said something that made my blood run cold.
"Emily was unstable near the end. You know that.""
"She was sick.""
"She was paranoid.""
"She wrote this before she died.""
Vanessa's eyes moved toward the wooden box.
I followed her gaze.
The hospital wristband.
The envelopes.
Something in the box had caught her attention.
She stepped forward again.
"Those papers are old. They don't mean anything.""
I picked up the wristband.
The printed name was Emily Carter.
Beneath it was a date.
October 4.
The day before Emily had been admitted to the hospital for the final time.
I turned it over.
There was a handwritten note on the back.
*Patient requested a private meeting with Dr. Harris. Concern regarding unauthorized medication access.*
I stared at the words.
"Unauthorized medication access?""
Vanessa said nothing.
I looked at her.
"Did you have access to Emily's medication?""
She shook her head quickly.
"Of course not.""
"Then why does this say that?""
"Marcus, you are making a mistake.""
"What mistake?""
She stepped backward.
"You're digging up things you don't understand.""
I placed the wristband on the desk.
"Then explain them.""
Vanessa's eyes filled with tears.
But they weren't the tears I had seen when Emily died.
These were different.
Angry.
Defensive.
"Emily never liked me," she whispered.
"Why?""
"Because she knew you were going to leave her.""
I froze.
"What?""
Vanessa's voice became sharper.
"She knew your marriage was falling apart.""
I stared at her.
"That's a lie.""
"Is it?""
She looked at the desk.
Then she reached into her handbag and pulled out her phone.
"There's something you should see.""
She opened a photograph and turned the screen toward me.
It was a screenshot of an email.
An email supposedly sent by Emily to Vanessa.
The subject line read:
*I CAN'T DO THIS ANYMORE.*
The message was short.
Please take care of Marcus and Maya when I'm gone. I know he needs someone who understands him. I don't want him to be alone.
I read it twice.
Then I looked at Vanessa.
"Where did you get this?""
"Emily sent it to me.""
"When?""
"Three days before she died.""
I stared at the screen.
Emily had never mentioned Vanessa receiving such a message.
And something about the email address looked wrong.
I reached for the phone.
Vanessa pulled it back.
"Don't.""
I looked at her.
"Why?""
"Because you don't want to know everything.""
Then her phone rang.
She glanced at the caller ID.
Her face changed.
She rejected the call.
A second later, a message appeared on her screen.
I caught only the first line.
*Did you find the notebook? You need to get rid of it before Marcus—*
Vanessa turned the phone facedown.
Neither of us spoke.
Then I heard a familiar voice behind me.
"Marcus?""
I turned.
My daughter stood in the hallway, still wearing the jacket I'd left at Daniel's house.
May you like
Her eyes were fixed on Vanessa.
"Daddy," she whispered, "that's the woman who came to see Mom at the hospital.""
