Riddles in the Dark

Elena stood at the kitchen counter, chopping spinach with a rhythm that matched the thudding of her heart. The spinach was wilting—much like her seven-year marriage to Marcus, much like the trust she'd placed in him without question.

Through the window, a fox darted across their backyard. She remembered when they'd first moved in, pointing it out to Marcus with delight. "Our little fox," he'd said, his arm warm around her shoulders. Now she wondered if that same cunning creature had been watching them both, assessing the terrain, calculating advantages.

The phone call had come three hours ago. A woman's voice, precise and clinical: "This is regarding your husband's employment verification with the Defense Logistics Agency."

Marcus wasn't a logistics coordinator. He was something else entirely.

Her eyes landed on the sphinx paperweight he'd brought back from Cairo—a trip she now realized he'd never actually taken. The sphinx's enigmatic smile seemed to mock her. Riddle me this, it seemed to say: how well do you truly know another person? How many lies can live beside you in bed before they become the truth?

The front door clicked. Marcus's key in the lock. His brief thud of his bag on the bench.

"Smells good," he called out, already shedding his corporate persona like a second skin. "You find the spinach?

"In the crisper," she said. "Wilting."

He appeared in the doorway, loosening his tie. For the first time, she noticed how his smile didn't reach his eyes. How he moved through their home like a spy who'd forgotten whose side he was on.

"Everything okay?" Marcus asked, finally reading the silence.

"No," she said. "The DLA called."

The air left the room. His face crumbled, then reconstructed itself into something cold and foreign. The sphinx on the shelf grinned down at them both.

"Elena—"

"How many?" she asked. "How many were there?"

"You don't understand."

"Seven years," she said. "I think I understand enough."

The spinach sizzled forgotten in the pan. Outside, the fox paused at the edge of the woods, watching through the glass with knowing eyes, before slipping away into the darkness, taking its secrets with it.