It prevents me from spending time with my beautiful, strangely distant wife.

I’m not sure when I first noticed it, the way Nora’s eyes constantly slide away from mine. The way she withholds something of herself even during sex. At first, I ascribed her withdrawn manner to grief and the aftermath of trauma, but as the days wore on, I realized there’s something more.

It’s subtle, barely discernible, this distance between us, but it’s there. She talks and acts as if things are normal, but I can tell they’re not. Whatever secret she’s keeping from me, it’s weighing on her, causing her to erect barriers between us. I could sense them during our training today, and it solidified my determination to get to the bottom of the matter.

According to the doctors, she’s finally fully healed from the miscarriage—and one way or another, tonight she’s going to tell me everything.

At dinner, I watch Nora as she interacts with her parents, hungrily taking in every minute movement of her hands, every flicker of her long eyelashes. I would’ve thought it impossible, but my obsession with her has reached a new peak since our return. It’s as if all the grief, rage, and pain inside me coalesced into one heart-ripping sensation, a feeling so intense it tears me from within.

A longing that’s entirely focused on her.

As we finish the main course, I realize I’ve hardly said a word, spending most of the meal absorbed in the sight of her and the sound of her voice. It’s probably just as well, given that it’s Nora’s parents’ last evening here. Although her father is no longer openly hostile toward me, I know both Lestons still wish they could free their daughter from my clutches. I would never let them take her from me, of course, but I don’t have a problem with the three of them spending some time on their own.

To that end, as soon as Ana brings out the dessert, I excuse myself by saying I’m full and go to the library, letting them finish the meal without me.

When I get there, I take a seat on a chaise by the window and spend a few minutes answering emails on my phone. Then the puzzle of Nora’s uncharacteristic distance creeps into my mind again. The way she’s been these past couple of weeks reminds me of when I first forced the trackers on her. It’s as if she’s upset with me—except this time, I have no idea why.

Glancing at the clock on the wall, I realize that it’s already been a half hour since I left the table. Hopefully, Nora’s already gone upstairs. When I check her location, however, I see she’s still in the dining room.

Mildly annoyed, I contemplate getting a book to read while I wait, but then I get a better idea.

Pulling up a different app on my phone, I activate the hidden audio feed from the dining room, put on my Bluetooth headset, and lean back in the chaise to listen.