Chapter 2 - Behind the Towels
Nia entered the Cole home at 6:18 that evening.
Warm amber light filled the living room.
Their wedding photograph hung above the console table: Nia laughing, Darius looking at her as though nothing else existed.
She stood beneath it for several seconds.
“You home?”
Darius called from upstairs.
Her body reacted before her mind did.
Her stomach tightened.
“Yes.”
“I picked up dinner.”
“Thanks.”
He sounded normal.
That was the first thing that frightened her.
The second was how easily she sounded normal too.
She removed her camel coat and hung it carefully.
Darius came downstairs wearing his charcoal sweater.
He smiled.
“Hey.”
He crossed the room and kissed her cheek.
Nia did not move.
He pulled back.
“You okay?”
“Long day.”
“You look pale.”
“I have a headache.”
His concern appeared immediate and convincing.
“Want aspirin?”
“No.”
“I can make tea.”
“No.”
A pause.
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
He studied her.
For seven years, Nia had believed she could read every meaningful expression on her husband’s face.
Now every expression felt like evidence.
Darius returned to the kitchen.
“I got green curry and those dumplings you like.”
“I’m going upstairs.”
“Nia?”
She kept walking.
In their bathroom, she locked the door.
Her hands trembled so violently she had to press them against the marble counter.
She opened the medicine cabinet.
Pain relievers.
Allergy pills.
Vitamins.
Nothing.
She crouched beneath the sink.
Cleaning supplies.
Extra soap.
Toilet paper.
Nothing.
She almost stopped.
Then she remembered Darius snapping at her the previous winter when she suggested throwing away old toiletries from the linen cabinet.
“I’ll handle my stuff.”
At the time she had rolled her eyes.
Now she crossed the hallway.
The linen cabinet smelled faintly of detergent.
She pulled out towels.
Sheets.
A heating pad.
At the back sat a small black toiletry bag.
Nia stared at it.
Her wedding ring suddenly felt heavy.
She unzipped the bag.
An old prescription bottle rolled forward and dropped onto the hardwood floor.
The sound was tiny.
Nia felt it in her chest.
She picked it up.
DARIUS COLE.
The medication name was printed beneath.
She recognized none of it.
But the prescribing physician’s specialty was listed.
INFECTIOUS DISEASE.
The date was eight years earlier.
One year before their wedding.
Nia stopped breathing.
Underneath the bottle was a folded pharmacy receipt.
She opened it.
Same medication.
Same name.
Another date.
Seven years and nine months earlier.
Three months before they stood beneath white flowers and promised honesty before two hundred people.
Nia heard the bathroom door open downstairs.
“Nia?”
Footsteps.
She remained crouched beside the cabinet.
“Nia, you want me to bring dinner up?”
The bedroom door opened.
Darius appeared in the hallway.
He saw the towels scattered on the floor.
Then the black bag.
Then the bottle in her hand.
His face collapsed.
Not confusion.
Not curiosity.
Recognition.
Fear.
Nia slowly stood.
“How long?”
Darius gripped the doorway.
“Nia.”
“How long?”
“Please.”
She walked toward him.
Her voice became sharper.
“How long have you known?”
Darius looked at the bottle.
His lips parted.
Nothing came out.
Nia held up the pharmacy receipt.
“Answer me.”
He closed his eyes.
“Before we got married.”
The hallway seemed to narrow.
Nia stared at him.
“You knew before our wedding?”
“I was going to tell you.”
“When?”
“I tried.”
“When?”
“The night before the rehearsal dinner.”
Nia laughed once.
A broken, unbelieving sound.
“You tried?”
“I couldn’t.”
“So you married me.”
“I loved you.”
“Don’t.”
Her voice cut through him.
“Do not use that word yet.”
Darius’s eyes filled.
“I was terrified.”
Nia walked past him.
He followed her downstairs.
“Nia, please let me explain.”
She reached the dining table and threw the clinic paperwork down.
Not at him.
Between them.
The HIV information sheet landed faceup.
Darius went completely still.
Nia watched realization spread across his face.
“My confirmatory test came back positive today.”
His knees seemed to soften.
“No.”
She stared at him.
“No?”
“Nia, no.”
He reached for the chair.
She moved backward.
“Don’t touch me.”
“I wasn’t—”
“Don’t.”
Darius covered his mouth.
Tears appeared instantly.
Nia felt no comfort from them.
“You watched me build a marriage without giving me the truth.”
“I was scared you’d leave.”
“So you took away my choice instead?”
“I never wanted to hurt you.”
“You knew.”
“I was treated.”
“You knew.”
“I was undetectable.”
“For all seven years?”
Darius stopped.
That silence was different.
Nia saw it.
“What?”
“Nia—”
“For all seven years?”
His eyes dropped.
Her heartbeat accelerated.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
“There was a period—”
She stared at him.
“A period of what?”
“My medication changed.”
“When?”
“I need to explain it correctly.”
“When?”
He looked at the floor.
“Last year.”
Nia’s employer test flashed through her mind.
Negative eighteen months ago.
She stepped backward.
“Last year?”
Darius said nothing.
She grabbed her phone.
“Who are you calling?”
“Aunt Renee.”
“Nia, please. This is between us.”
She looked at him with an expression he had never seen from her before.
“No, Darius.”
Her thumb pressed Renee’s name.
“You decided what was between us seven years ago.”
The call connected.
“Auntie?”
Her voice finally broke.
“I need you to come over.”
Darius sank into the dining chair.
Nia stared at the man she had slept beside for nearly a decade.
And beneath the shock, another emotion had begun forming.
Not grief.
Not yet.
Investigation.
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Because Darius had just admitted that the bottle was not the last secret.
It was only the first one she had found.
