POV: Naomi
I sat there quietly, my fingers wrapped tightly around the cold cup in front of me while my heart refused to calm down.
The café suddenly felt too small.
Too quiet.
And too exposed for me.
I waited for it.
For the moment Tristan would finally speak and say the words I had already started preparing myself for.
I want you to pack your things and leave when we get back.
Or worse—
Maybe he would quietly excuse himself, step outside, and call the police.
Because what sane person heard:
I killed my husband
…and stayed calm?
My chest tightened painfully.
How was I supposed to leave without seeing Sophie again?
The thought alone made my throat burn.
Somewhere along the line, that little girl had become important to me in a way I never planned for. She had crawled into my
