“Who were you talking to for so long?”
The question slipped out of Noud’s mouth uncontrollably, surprising them both.
Instead of answering, Bernard just raised an eyebrow.
Noud’s face went numb with shame, his throat tightened, and his arms felt like dead weight dragging him down. They weren’t in the habit of prying into each other’s business. Especially not like this. If one of them left the other out of something, it was respected—because there was usually a good reason. Their shared past, their life together, and their work demanded absolute trust and patience.
“How am I supposed to take that?”
“I…” Noud managed to whisper, but he couldn’t go on.
Guilt and despair crashed down on him with such force that he didn’t even have the strength to leave the kitchen. He just stood there, frozen in an unnatural pose, as if ready to walk away, but his legs refused to obey.
Bernard didn’t bother to hide his outrage. He swept him with a scornful look.
“I never thought we’d get to this point.”
“Lately…” Noud murmured. His chest felt tight, as though his lungs were filled with air he couldn’t release, making it impossible to draw in another breath.
“Lately what?” Bernard snapped.
But the answer never came. If only Noud could have put into words the hell of the past few days! The tormenting feeling that hadn’t touched him in years, and yet now had crept insidiously into every cell, every thought: the awful jealousy and the dreadful certainty. Seeing Bernard, slipping out of the house again and again with his phone in hand. The messages flashing onto a device he always made sure to keep face down—deliberately hiding the screen. Even at night. Especially at night.
Every nerve in Noud’s body screamed danger. He was certain this time it wasn’t about some assignment Bernard was preparing, one he would only hear about later. There was no birthday coming up, no other occasion. And yet, within just a few days, Bernard had changed completely. He disappeared several times a day. Not for long—usually half an hour. And that unsettled Noud far more than if he’d been gone for hours. That could be explained: he went for a swim, had a drink with some old acquaintance vacationing on the island, or simply needed to clear his head. But two or three half-hour vanishings every day? That made no sense at all. Add to that the endless phone calls, the flood of messages, and the ominous silence.
“At least tell me if it’s work,” Noud whispered weakly.
Bernard’s eyes flashed with fury. His lips thinned until they nearly disappeared, nostrils flaring, chest rising.
Noud couldn’t bear to look at him any longer. He lowered his head with a painful sigh. With the breath that tore from his lungs, that strange force pinning him to the kitchen floor also left him, and at last he managed to leave the room.
“Wait,” Bernard called after him, his voice dry.
Noud stopped, but didn’t turn back. He braced one hand against the doorframe.
“It’s not work.”
“A lover?”
“No.”
“Will you tell me?”
“I can’t.”
“A man?”
“No.”
“Should I be worried?”
“Not yet.”