I almost laughed at that. “Stay calm?” I repeated. “You’re driving me somewhere I didn’t ask to go, and you want me to stay calm?”
He glanced at me in the mirror. “Yes,” he said, “because panic won’t help you right now.”
I took a breath. Then another. He was right about one thing. Panic wasn’t going to solve anything.
“Start talking,” I said.
He exhaled slowly. “I’ve been noticing a car,” he began. “Dark sedan, usually two or three cars behind us. Keeps its distance.”
My stomach tightened. “I’ve seen it too,” I admitted.
He nodded. “I figured you had.”
“How long?” I asked.
“A little over a week,” he said. “At first, I thought it was coincidence. Same commute, same time of day. It happens.”
“And now?” I pressed.
“Now I’m sure it’s not.”
The car continued down the quiet street. We passed a closed diner, a gas station with flickering lights, a row of small houses with porches lit by yellow bulbs. Normal places. Normal life. And yet everything felt slightly off.
“What makes you so sure?” I asked.
Daniel adjusted his grip on the wheel. “Patterns,” he said. “People think they’re harder to spot than they are.”
I waited.
“That car doesn’t just follow,” he continued. “It adjusts. If I change lanes, it changes lanes. If I slow down, it slows down. If I take a different route, it finds its way back.”
I felt a chill run through me. “That could still be coincidence,” I said, though the words sounded weaker than I intended.
He shook his head. “Not with that kind of consistency.”
I stared out the window, but I wasn’t really seeing anything anymore. My mind was racing, trying to make sense of what he was saying.
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” I asked.
“I needed to be sure,” he said. “If I was wrong, I didn’t want to worry you.”
“And if you were right?” I asked.
He hesitated. “Then I needed to understand who was behind it.”
The question hung in the air between us.
“Do you know?” I asked quietly.
Daniel didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he checked the mirror again. His eyes narrowed slightly. “They’re still there,” he said.
I turned instinctively, trying to look behind us.
“Don’t,” he said quickly. “Just trust me.”
I faced forward again, my heart beating a little faster. “Now, who is it?” I asked.
He took a breath. Then he said it.
“Your husband.”
For a moment, I didn’t react. The words didn’t land the way they should have. They just floated there, disconnected from everything I thought I knew.
“That doesn’t make any sense,” I said finally.
Daniel didn’t argue.
“He’s been in that car?” I continued. “Following me? For what?”
“I don’t think he’s driving,” Daniel said. “But yes, I’ve seen him.”
I shook my head. “No,” I said. “No, that’s not… he wouldn’t.”
I stopped because even as I said it, I realized something uncomfortable. I didn’t actually know what he would or wouldn’t do anymore.
“Why would he do that?” I asked, more to myself than to Daniel.
Daniel’s voice stayed steady. “That’s what we need to figure out.”
We drove in silence for a moment. I could feel my thoughts shifting, rearranging themselves around this new information. The affair, the divorce, the company, all of it suddenly felt connected in a way I hadn’t considered before.
“Take me home,” I said suddenly.
Daniel didn’t move.
“Take me home,” I repeated, more firmly.
“No,” he said.
