as silent whe

oing kind that made the air feel colder than it was.

hout bothering to line them up. My purse slipped from my fin

bably working late at his office again, surprise, surprise, the house felt less like a home and more like a museum. Ev

of it m

rrounded by polished wealth and emptin

d no

was buried beneath a rosewo

Not to check if I got home. I could have gone missing

ing my legs beneath me. The silence pressed in from all sides. It f

I d

ed my face into a cushion and screamed into it, muffled and raw. I hated him. I hated myself. I hated

hat I bel

I have bee

he tears to run out and dry sticky on my cheeks. Long e

r the footst

eck on me, but it was Mrs. Bloom, the housekeeper. She was in her forties, wore he

ossing the room slowly. "I thought

inish. She d

the tears from my eyes. T

. "Do you want me

ow laugh. "He

tened, and sh

cushion from my lap, setting it aside. Then

t," she said softly. "But you d

eyes burning again. "He humil

o shame in loving someone deeply, Arabel

ut the ache in my

, I asked, "Was I a

been grieving your mother since you were seventeen. You've been tr

lin

But he doesn't know how to show it anymore. He

o believe

The way his eyes went through me like I was wallpaper. The wa

rs. Bloom," I

rgue, but she didn't. Instead,

if you need it," she said, her

n she w

the silence wrap itself around me again. Le

gged myself up an

the mascara streaks, the swollen e

y neck. My mother's. The one t

e in a long time, I w

would you t

swer

house settling. And my reflect

in my room w

and walked int

perfect lighting. The kind of bathroom that belonged in a five-star

eet, nothing like the rare vintage in my father's wine cellar. I didn't bother w

se in swirls, softening the sharp edges of the room. I stripped o

t first, too hot,

surface. My hair floated around me. The bottle was heavy in

, the numb

gain, silent

porcelain edge, and I stared at the c

ed more like a sob. My fingers trembled

into the steam. My voice cracked. "W

I meant Julian or

rent ways. One with silen

bottle dangled from my hand over the side of the tub, half-empty

llions, wearing designer dresses, and driving

etty e

erestin

ugh to

Julian, maybe to myself. "I hate t

ftly against the ti

e water was cooled. The wine dulle

ing

ned, and my legs wobbled beneath me. I wrapped a towel aro

ips pale. I didn't recogn

e that w

too easily had to die a lit

. she'd start to fig

ight, s

, she'd

ake in her big, empty roo

. someone