Not the quiet woman beside him at charity dinners.
Not the person he thought he understood.
Me.
The woman who had spent months reading every page he assumed nobody would read.
He approached slowly.
For several seconds neither of us spoke.
Then he asked:
“How did you find it?”
I smiled.
Because the answer was simple.
“The same way I found everything else.”
His jaw tightened.
“How?”
I stood carefully.
One hand resting on my stomach.
Then I answered.
