Inside the bathroom drawer lay a package of sanitary pads that clearly didn’t belong to me.

Outside the door, I heard Tamara’s voice on the phone.

“Mr. Shepherd,” she said sweetly, “I got my period at the hospital, but I can’t find the special brand for younger girls. There’s a pack left in your bathroom. Could you bring it to me?”

Henry stepped into the bathroom, only to catch me pulling open the drawer.

His gaze flickered with guilt before he quickly walked away.

“I couldn’t find it. I’ll go buy you a new pack from the store,” he said into the receiver.

“Please hurry, Mr. Shepherd! If the hospital bed gets dirty, the nurses will be upset—and I’d be so embarrassed!”

Henry seemed to have a lot of patience for Tamara’s antics.

He even seemed to note every detail of what she needed: the brand, the length, the type.

By the time he hung up, I had finished packing my suitcase.

Then he turned back awkwardly and tried to explain, “Don’t read too much into it. She only came over that day to change her clothes.”

I shrugged.

“Make sense.”