Page 133 of Override

My breath catches. He knows. Or maybe...Maybe he doesn't. Maybe he just knows me.

"It isn't the messages I'm taking.” His hand remains outstretched. "It's the door."

My fingers loosen. One at a time. Until the phone rests in his palm. He doesn't unlock it. Doesn't read it. Doesn't even glance at the screen. He slips it into his pocket beside his own. Exactly as if he'd picked up a set of keys.

Nothing more. Nothing less.

"I asked how your day was."

"You did." He studies me for another long moment before reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket.

My pulse jumps. Not because I think he's reaching for a weapon. Because I suddenly don't know what to expect anymore.

He pulls out his phone. Unlocks it. Lifts it to his ear.

I wait for him to step away to make his call like he normally does but he doesn’t.

He keeps looking directly at me.

"Shut the network down." Silence. My heart begins to pound. "Every internal feed." Another pause. "The cameras outside are to remain operational." I frown. "Now."

He ends the call and slips the phone back into his pocket.

"What..." My voice comes out smaller than I intended. "What does that mean?"

"It means someone found a door into my house."

I stare at him. "I don't understand."

"I know." His gaze drifts toward the television. Then the speaker. Then the security camera in the corner. "You've been happier."

The observation catches me completely off guard. "What?"

"You've smiled more this week than you have since we were married."

The room feels suddenly too small. "I..."

"You've laughed." He says it almost thoughtfully. "As if someone has reminded you how."

A chill races down my spine. He noticed. He noticed everything. The music. My moods. My smiles. My laughter. Every single thing.

"I've been trying to determine why." His attention returns to me. "I thought perhaps it was your parents." The memory of seeing my mother flashes through my mind. "I was wrong."

My stomach twists.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"No." His voice remains impossibly calm. "I don't believe you do."

He walks past me. Not close enough to touch. Not close enough that I have to move. Just close enough that I can smell the cedar and bergamot of his cologne.

He stops beside the built-in speaker. The song changes. Another one of my favorites.

For one heartbreaking second I think maybe… Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe none of this is what it feels like.

Then he reaches behind the speaker. The music dies in the middle of the chorus. The silence that replaces it feels suffocating.

He doesn't look at me. He simply walks to the media cabinet beneath the television.