I sat on the closed toilet lid with my phone in my lap and stared at Marisol's name.
My thumb hovered over the call button.
Then I heard Ian knock.
“Sharon?”
I didn't answer.
“Please open the door.”
I looked down at the ring on my finger.
“You said there was no other woman.”
“There isn't.”
“Then why can't you tell me what the key is for?”
Silence.
That silence hurt more than an accusation would have.
Finally, I unlocked the door.
Ian stood outside, fully dressed now. His tuxedo was still draped over the chair behind him, looking absurdly elegant for something that had nearly shattered my morning.
“I need to explain something,” he said.
“Then explain.”
“I can't explain all of it.”
I gave him a tired laugh.
“You're not making this better.”
“I know.”
He looked genuinely miserable.
“I made a promise.”
“To R?”
“To someone who trusted me.”
“More than you trust me?”
“No.”
“Then why does it feel like that?”
He looked at my face for a long moment.
“Because I chose the wrong way to protect a surprise.”
“A surprise?”
He nodded.
“You're telling me this is a surprise?”
“Part of it.”
“What kind of surprise requires a secret for a year?”
He rubbed his forehead.
“The kind where telling you early would ruin everything.”
I wanted to throw the note at him.
Instead, I handed it back.
“Then give me one reason not to cancel the honeymoon.”
His expression tightened.
“Because you'll regret making a decision while you're angry.”
“I don't think I'm angry.”
“What are you?”
“Afraid.”
That silenced him.
He reached for me but stopped before touching my arm.
“I've never wanted you to be afraid of me.”
“I know.”
“And I've never betrayed you.”
“I know.”
“But?”
“But I don't know what this is.”
He nodded slowly.
“That's fair.”
I called Marisol again.
She answered immediately.
“Well?”
“He says there's no other woman.”
“And?”
“He won't tell me what the key opens.”
Marisol was quiet.
“Do you believe him?”
I looked at Ian.
“Yes.”
Then I corrected myself.
“I think I do.”
“That matters.”
“Does it?”
“Yes. Because if you genuinely believe he's lying, don't board a plane with him. But if you believe he's hiding something for another reason, then give yourself room to find out.”
I closed my eyes.
“I hate this.”
“I know.”
“I've been married for less than a day.”
“You've also been with him for four years.”
That was the only thing keeping me from walking out.
Four years.
Four years of Ian showing up when he said he would.
Four years of apologies that came without being dragged out of him.
Four years of knowing where he was, who his friends were, what he worried about, what he wanted for the future.
He wasn't perfect.
Neither was I.
But I had never once wondered whether he loved me.
Until that morning.
After the call ended, Ian handed me a cup of coffee.
“I made it the way you like it.”
I stared at it.
“That's almost insulting.”
He smiled faintly.
“I know.”
I took the cup anyway.
We sat across from each other at the little hotel table.
The wedding flowers were still in a glass vase by the window. One white petal had fallen onto the table between us.
“Ian?”
“Yes?”
“What did you buy at Bellamy & Sons?”
He hesitated.
“Something that belongs to you.”
My heart skipped.
“Something that belongs to me?”
“Yes.”
“Why wouldn't you just give it to me?”
“Because it wasn't ready.”
“For what?”
“For the right moment.”
I leaned back.
“You keep saying that.”
“Because it's true.”
“Then tell me who R is.”
He looked down.
“She helped me find it.”
“Find what?”
He didn't answer.
I pressed my fingers against my forehead.
“This is ridiculous.”
“I know.”
“You're my husband.”
“I know.”
“You should be able to tell me anything.”
“I can.”
“Then tell me.”
He looked at me with a sad smile.
“I can tell you everything except this.”
I almost laughed.
“That's a terrible definition of honesty.”
“Probably.”
For the first time, I saw a little humor return to his face.
It didn't last.
His phone buzzed on the table.
He glanced at the screen and turned it facedown.
I froze.
He noticed.
“You can look.”
“I don't want to.”
“It's not a secret.”
“That's what you said before.”
He picked up the phone and showed me.
It was a message from the jeweler.
I didn't read the entire thing, but I saw enough.
CONFIRMED FOR TOMORROW.
My heart began beating faster.
“Tomorrow?”
He locked the phone.
“It's nothing dangerous.”
“I didn't say dangerous.”
“I know.”
“Then what is happening tomorrow?”
He looked away.
“Something I've been waiting a long time to give you.”
I stood.
“I'm going to pack.”
He nodded.
Neither of us spoke while we folded clothes.
The ordinary things became unbearable.
Socks.
Toiletries.
A passport.
My blue dress for the first night in Greece.
Everything looked normal.
Nothing felt normal.
At the airport, I kept the brass key inside my purse.
Ian didn't ask for it.
That somehow made me more nervous.
On the plane, he fell asleep almost immediately.
I sat beside him, watching clouds pass below the window.
Four years ago, when we first met, he had told me that secrets exhausted him.
I remembered laughing.
He had looked completely serious.
“I'd rather have an uncomfortable truth than a comfortable lie.”
Now those words kept returning to me.
I reached into my purse and touched the key.
The metal was warm from my hand.
I wondered what it opened.
A drawer?
A safe?
A box?
Something belonging to his family?
Something belonging to mine?
Then another possibility occurred to me.
What if it opened something from my past?
I looked at Ian.
He was asleep.
His face was peaceful.
For a moment, I felt guilty for doubting him.
Then I remembered the note.
She mustn't know.
Who was “she”?
Me.
There was no question about that.
The rest of the flight passed in silence.
When we landed, Ian surprised me by not taking me directly to the hotel.
Instead, we drove toward an older part of the city.
“Where are we going?”
“You'll see.”
I almost told him I was done with surprises.
But then he reached over and squeezed my hand.
“I promise you're safe.”
The car stopped outside a small jewelry shop.
Bellamy & Sons.
My stomach tightened.
“We're here?”
He nodded.
I looked at the window.
There was a small display of antique jewelry, watches, and family pieces.
Ian got out.
I followed.
Inside, an older woman behind the counter looked up.
The instant she saw Ian, her expression softened.
Then she looked at me.
Her face changed.
“You're Sharon.”
I stopped.
“How do you know my name?”
She looked at Ian.
He nodded once.
Then she reached beneath the counter and brought out a small velvet box.
My pulse began racing.
“I've been waiting for you,” she said.
I looked at Ian.
He wasn't smiling.
He looked nervous.
The woman placed the box in my hands.
“You should open it yourself.”
My fingers tightened around the lid.
I lifted it.
Inside was an old silver locket.
I recognized it before I touched it.
My breath caught.
I had seen that locket once before.
Years ago.
In a photograph of my mother.
Click here to continue reading: PART 3: The Jeweler Opened a Box Ian Had Guarded for Nearly a Year, and Inside Was Something I Thought My Family Had Lost Forever
The Morning After Saying “I Do,” One Tiny Object Turned My Husband’s Perfect Tuxedo Into Something I Suddenly Feared
Part 2 of 10
