The villa is perfect. That's the first thing I notice when we step through the door. Floor-to-ceiling windows. Turquoise water stretching out forever. A bed so white it looks like it's never been slept in.

Jayson drops our bags and pulls me close. "This is it," he says into my hair. "Just you and me."

I lean into him. I want to believe it.

We spend the first day doing nothing. We swim. We eat lunch on the terrace. We fall asleep in the hammock with our legs tangled together. It feels like the honeymoon I imagined. It feels like the beginning of everything.

The next morning, I go to the front desk to confirm our dinner reservation. I booked the resort's signature restaurant weeks ago. A table on the water. Candles. White gardenias, my favorite, arranged in a low crystal bowl. I want everything to be perfect.

The woman behind the desk smiles when she pulls up my name. "Yes, Mrs. Gray. Tomorrow evening at eight. We have your gardenia request noted."

"Thank you," I say. I'm about to turn away when I feel Jayson's arms slip around my waist from behind.

He kisses the side of my neck. "Hey, babe."

I lean back against him. "Hey yourself."

"So, funny thing," he says. His voice is light. Easy. "Oakley's in the area. She texted this morning. She's doing some solo travel thing and she's literally on the next island over. I told her to come hang out for a few days."

I go still.

"She'll be here this afternoon," he continues. "Isn't that wild? What are the odds?"

I don't say anything. I can't.

The woman behind the desk is still smiling at us. Jayson's arms are still around me. Everything looks fine.

"Paige?" Jayson's voice has a question in it now.

I make myself nod. "Yeah. That's... great."

"I knew you'd be cool with it." He kisses my temple and lets me go. "I'm gonna grab a coffee. You want anything?"

"No. I'm good."

He walks away whistling.

I turn back to the woman at the desk. My voice comes out steady. "I need to cancel one of the sun-lounger reservations I made for tomorrow. And add a third."

She taps at her screen. "Of course. No problem at all."

I walk back to the villa slowly. The sun is bright. The water is impossibly blue. Couples pass me on the wooden walkway, holding hands, laughing.

I press my thumbnail into the pad of my index finger. Hard.

Oakley arrives at four. She's wearing cutoff denim shorts and a faded band T-shirt. Her hair is in a messy bun. She looks like she just rolled out of bed and somehow makes it work.

Jayson hugs her at the dock. A long hug. The kind that lasts three seconds too long.

"This place is insane," Oakley says, looking around. "Thanks for letting me crash your honeymoon."

"Don't be ridiculous," Jayson says. "You're family."

I stand a few feet back. I'm smiling. I don't know when I started smiling.

"Hey, Paige," Oakley says. She gives me a quick, casual hug. The kind you give someone you're not trying to impress.

"Hey," I say. "Good to see you."

The three of us walk back toward the villas together. Jayson is in the middle. He's talking about the snorkeling trip we took yesterday. Oakley is laughing at something he said. I'm half a step behind them, watching the back of his head.

That night, we eat at the beachside grill instead of the restaurant I booked. Jayson says Oakley mentioned she loves wood-fired pizza and wouldn't it be fun to do something casual instead?

I call the front desk from the bathroom and cancel the gardenia arrangement.

The next day, we take a catamaran out to a sandbar. I had reserved two seats on the starboard side, where the shade is. When we board, Jayson steers Oakley toward those seats. "You'll get scorched on the other side," he tells her.

I sit across from them in full sun. I don't say anything. I put on more sunscreen.

The day after that, Jayson tells me at dinner that he and Oakley are going night diving.

"She's nervous about doing it alone," he says. "And you don't dive, so..."

"Right," I say. "That makes sense."

"You don't mind, do you?"

I look at him. His face is open. Guileless. He genuinely believes this is reasonable.

"No," I say. "I don't mind."

They leave at nine. I go back to the villa alone. I lie in bed and stare at the ceiling fan. It turns in slow, lazy circles. I count the rotations. I lose track after sixty.

Jayson comes back a little after midnight. His hair is damp. He smells like salt water and something else. Something I can't name.

He slides into bed beside me. "You awake?"

"Yeah."

"It was amazing," he says. "The reef at night is like another world."

"That's great."

He rolls toward me. "You're upset."

I don't answer right away. I'm trying to find the right words. The ones that won't sound crazy.

"I just... I thought this was supposed to be our honeymoon," I say finally. "Just us."

Jayson sighs. It's a disappointed sigh. The kind that makes me feel small.

"Paige. Come on. She's like a sister to me. You know that."

"I know, but—"

"Your insecurity is ruining this trip for everyone," he says. His voice is gentle. Reasonable. "I need you to trust me."

I go quiet.

He kisses my forehead. "Get some sleep, okay?"

He turns over. Within minutes, his breathing evens out.

I lie awake for a long time. I press my thumbnail into my finger until it leaves a mark.

I tell myself it will pass.

I tell myself I'm overreacting.

I tell myself I'm being the kind of wife I don't want to be.

I almost believe it.

The concierge calls my villa at three-fifteen the next afternoon. A package has arrived. Priority international courier. Signature required.

I walk to the front desk alone. Jayson and Oakley are at the pool. I saw them from the terrace before I left. She was lying on the lounger next to his. The one I'd reserved weeks ago.

The box is smaller than I expected. Rosewood, polished dark, with brass hinges that look like they've been there a hundred years. My name is written on the shipping label in careful block letters. No return address.

I sign for it. The concierge smiles and asks if I need help carrying it back.

"No," I say. "I'm fine."

I take it to the villa. I lock the door behind me. I don't know why I lock it. Maybe because I want to be alone when I open it.

The box sits on the bed. I stand there looking at it for a full minute before I touch the latch.

Inside, wrapped in silk the color of old ivory, is the megaphone. Brass and dark wood. Heavier than it should be. The metal is warm against my palms even though the air conditioning has been running all day.

I lift it out carefully. There's a note underneath. Cream cardstock. My grandmother's handwriting in black ink.

*You already know what to do.*

Five words. That's all.

I hold the megaphone and feel something hum through it. Not sound exactly. More like a vibration that starts in the metal and moves into my hands. Up my wrists. Into my chest.

I think about the story my grandmother told me when I was twelve. We were in the library at the Hamptons house. She'd shown me the megaphone for the first time. Told me it had been in the Wilson family for five generations. That it compelled truth from anyone who spoke into it. That lies spoken through it came back as consequences. Physical ones.

I'd asked if it was real. If it actually worked.

She'd looked at me with those sharp gray eyes and said, "You'll know when you need it."

I wrap the megaphone back in the silk. I put it in the box. I slide the box under the bed, all the way to the wall where the shadows are deepest.

Then I go back to the pool.

Jayson and Oakley are exactly where I left them. She's talking about some bar she went to in Thailand. He's laughing. His hand is resting on the edge of her lounger.

I sit down on the third lounger. The one in full sun.

"Hey, babe," Jayson says without looking over. "We were just talking about doing the sunset cruise tomorrow. You in?"

"Sure," I say. "Sounds great."

Oakley glances at me. Her sunglasses are mirrored. I can't see her eyes.

"You okay?" she asks. "You look weird."

"I'm fine," I say. "Just hot."

I smile. I've gotten very good at smiling.

That night at dinner I suggest the campfire party. I make my voice light. Enthusiastic. I lean forward like I'm sharing something delightful.

"My grandmother sent the most incredible thing," I say. "This antique megaphone. It's a Wilson family tradition. We do this game where everyone takes turns holding it and says their most honest truth. Like truth or dare but just for the truth part."

Jayson raises his eyebrows. "That's very you."

"It's fun," I say. "I promise. And it's our last night here. We should do something memorable."

Oakley shrugs. She's picking at her fish. "Sure. Why not."

"Perfect," I say. "I'll set it up with the resort. They do beach bonfires every night. We can join one."

Jayson reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. "You're the best, you know that?"

"I know," I say.

I squeeze back. I keep smiling.

The next two days I perform normalcy like it's my job. I laugh at Jayson's jokes. I defer to Oakley's restaurant suggestions. When she says she wants Thai food instead of the French place I picked, I say "Thai sounds amazing." When Jayson cancels our couples massage to go kayaking with her, I say "No problem, I'll read by the pool."

I am pleasant. I am accommodating. I am the wife who doesn't make a fuss.

At night, alone in the villa while Jayson showers, I pull the box out from under the bed. I open it. I touch the megaphone. I feel that hum again. That warmth.

I think about the campfire. About what will happen when they speak into it. About what truths will come out in their own voices. Truths they can't take back. Truths everyone will hear.

I think about my grandmother's note.

*You already know what to do.*

I do.

I close the box. I slide it back under the bed.

I wait.