She was nearly finished showering by the time Philip rolled in. Imani saw him through the steam-covered glass door, a blurred male figure that she would recognize half blind. After nearly eighteen years of marriage, Imani knew her husband. She knew him by his walk and his voice. She could tell when he’d had a bad day by the way he entered a room. She knew what set him off and what excited him, what he was passionate about and what would never reach his radar.

Her love was built on this knowledge. Adoring particular characteristics of an individual was for newlyweds and hopeless romantics, Imani thought. Long-term spouses loved each other simply because they’d decided to, because they’d done so for long enough that not doing so was to become a different person entirely.

Philip sauntered over to the toilet bowl. Imani finished rinsing the conditioner from her hair as he relieved himself. She shut off the faucet, wrung out her curls like a washcloth, and then pulled back the shower door, expecting to see Philip with a towel in hand. He knew that she always forgot to bring one within arm’s reach.

Her husband stood before the vanity, examining his face in the mirror. Philip wasn’t vain, but even he had to see the impact of the past year on his visage, the way his skin seemed to pull on his facial muscles. Imani was suddenly struck by a deep sadness, different from the dull ache that she’d felt since Melissa’s disappearance. Her husband was struggling.

She exited the shower, wrapped a towel around herself, and kissed him on the back of his shoulder. “Hey, honey.”

“Hey, baby.” He turned around, smiling for her benefit. She could tell the difference between a brave grin and a natural one when it came to her spouse.

“I need to talk to you about something.”

The smile vanished. Imani touched Philip’s arm to indicate that the coming complaint wouldn’t be about him. “Actually, it’s probably better if I show you.”

She beckoned for Philip to follow her into the neighboring room. He did so reluctantly, taking one step to every two of her strides. “I don’t like surprises,” he said.

Imani had no desire to keep him in suspense. She quickly unlocked her phone and opened Instagram. “You recognize this guy?”

Philip took the cell from her. “Yeah.” He squinted at the screen. “That’s Mike. One of my bartenders. I guess he goes by Micky online.”

“He reached out to Melissa before she disappeared to tell her some things.”

“What things?”

“That’s what I wanted to know, so I met with him in the park last night.”

Philip gripped her phone tighter, a pitcher with a baseball. “You met with a strange man, at night, in the park. Are you crazy?”

“The police said he’d been talking to Melissa. They implied an affair.”