A carefully constructed trail designed to transfer everything I had built into Sophia’s hands while Marcus performed the role of a grieving widower.
I recorded the entire conversation.
Then I spent five days pretending.
Pretending to eat.
Pretending I knew nothing.
Pretending the man beside me was not counting down the days until my final meal.
Now Tuesday had arrived.
The soup sat before me.
And Marcus was smiling.
His phone rang before either of us lifted a spoon.
He looked at the screen and rose too quickly.
“Business call,” he said. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
The second he entered the living room, I acted.
I exchanged the bowls.
My fingers shook so violently that the porcelain clicked against the tabletop, but I managed to place them correctly.
His bowl sat in front of me.
Mine sat in front of him.
Then I settled back into my chair and folded the napkin across my lap.
