The Summer We Drifted

Margot sat by the apartment complex pool, legs dangling in the water, the iphone burning a hole in her bag. It had been three weeks since she'd become something she never intended: a spy in her own marriage.

The discovery had been accidental—an unlocked phone, a message that glowed with the particular intimacy of two people who had just stopped being careful. Elena: "Can't stop thinking about last night." A name she didn't recognize.

Now, a tabby cat appeared from nowhere, weaving between the lounge chairs with the entitled grace of something that knew it belonged. Margot watched it settle near her bag, its golden eyes fixed on her with unnerving intelligence.

"You too, huh?" she murmured. "Looking for signs of life."

She was swimming in uncertainty, drowning in it. Every time James touched her now, she wondered if his hands had touched someone else the same way. He'd started working late again—those convenient hours that had once meant deadline season now meant suspicion season. She'd stopped asking where he'd been. What was the point? She'd only catch him in another lie, and she was tired of being the person who couldn't believe anything anymore.

The first fork of lightning split the sky, violet-white against deep gray. A storm had been building all afternoon, the air thick and electric with unsaid things.

Her phone buzzed. James: "Running late. Dinner without me?"

The cat jumped as thunder shook the ground, then disappeared as quickly as it had arrived. Margot stared at the screen, at the message that was so familiar and so empty. She could confront him. She could demand answers. She could pack her things tonight, leave while he was whatever/wherever he was.

Instead, she typed: "Sure."

Another flash of lightning illuminated the pool, turning the water momentarily silver. She wasn't swimming anymore—she was learning to breathe underwater, growing accustomed to the pressure, the way everything moved slower in the deep end. The spy in her marriage had become something else: a woman who stayed, watching and waiting, not quite ready to surface for air.