Everything wasn’t okay, Michael was acting so strangely, and it felt like the shadow of my smirking dream-husband was still with me, giving me that ominous wink.

The next morning Michael came into the kitchen, and I hastily lifted my mug of coffee, wishing I could hide my black eye behind it. He stopped, stricken. “What happened?”

“Last night—”

“I did that? I thought it was just a nightmare. I’m sorry, honey. Let me see.” He took my chin in his hand and tilted my face upward. “Does it hurt?”

I shook my head, savoring the warmth of his attention. “It’s just a fancy bruise. No big deal.”

“I’m so sorry. I took a sleeping pill, and then I dreamed …” He let go and turned away. Even in sleep, he hadn’t been able to escape what he’d seen. And now he felt guilty for hurting me on top of the guilt he already felt. And I’d seen for myself how terrified he must have been, and I wished with every atom of my being that I could banish those fears and promise him safety.

“Do you want to talk about it?” I asked, knowing what his answer would be.

He opened the cabinet, but instead of taking out his coffee mug, he just stood there with his back to me.

Of course he didn’t want to talk about it. He didn’t want to think about it. He wished it had never happened, or that it had happened somewhere else, to someone else. And I knew firsthand how little medication could do here. A pill could dampen the anxiety, force you to sleep, but it couldn’t erase the past or dispel your demons.

“Would you talk to someone else? A professional?”

“Maybe.” With a flick of his hand, he shut the cabinet. “I’m going in early to work.”

“Do you want coffee to go?”

But he was already scooping up his computer bag and heading to the garage. “I’ll get something on the way.”

“I can phone Dr. Lindsey’s office for you,” I called after him.

The only answer was the slamming door.

In the silence, I could feel the tension seep from my body. I’d never had to be on guard like this around Michael. From the outside, nothing had changed for us, not really. Michael and I loved each other and Grace. Michael still had his job and we had a lovely home, but the foundations of our faith in humanity were crumbling, and that made everything look as bleak as a post-apocalyptic landscape. If we hadn’t seen the truth about our friends, our closest neighbors, how could we be sure about each other?