My husband told me to stop asking about the envelope he kept in his work bag. It had been there for months. Brown envelope, rubber band around it, tucked behind his laptop charger. Me: What’s in it? Husband: Nothing important. Me: Then why do you keep checking it? He’d take it out when he thought I was asleep, count something inside, then put it back. Last Tuesday, I found it on the kitchen counter while he was in the shower. I didn’t open it. I just held it. It was heavier than I expected. When he came downstairs, he saw it in my hands and stopped on the last step. Husband: Put it down. Me: Is it money? Husband: Put it down, Sara. I put it on the counter. Me: We’ve been married eleven years. I found out last month that we owe four thousand on the car. You said we couldn’t afford a weekend away. He filled the kettle, even though neither of us wanted tea. Husband: It’s not for us. Me: Then who is it for? The kettle clicked off. Husband: My brother. Me: Which brother? He looked at me like I’d asked something stupid. Husband: Daniel.