Sandra remembered a strange letter that had arrived on an ordinary Tuesday—an envelope addressed to Jake from a city neither of them had ever visited. Sandra watched him frown at it before tossing it onto the counter unopened. “Probably junk mail,” he said casually, brushing it aside as if it meant nothing.
Later that week, he opened it briefly, scanned a few lines, and shrugged. “See? Just some random business nonsense. They probably sold my information.” Sandra didn’t press him. People received odd mail all the time. It slipped easily from her thoughts, forgotten amid cravings, appointments, and nursery preparations.