of the night before had cooled into a calm, steely determination. She moved around the quiet house, a stranger in her own home. She made coffee, but for one, no

in the lock made Sarah' s muscles tense. He flicked on the harsh overhead lig

ed, dropping his keys on th

d, her voice flat. She didn

expensive whiskey and a faint, floral perfume that wasn't

asked, trying to

a sk

arming husband. He pulled a small, velvet box from his pocket and held i

for corporate gifts. She took it from him without a word and opened it. Inside was

es. She knew, because she had considered buying him that very watch for his birthday last year. He hadn't bought her a gift. He had give

f any emotion. She closed the box and set i

iveness. He had expected her to fall back into his arms, grateful for th

ing to try it

m. Her eyes were clear and steady. "It's just a th

tal painting of hers that had been damaged during a move. He had been dismissive, telling her it was just "paint on a canvas" a

e grand, empty gesture had failed. So he reverted

u iron my blue shirt for tomor

ack in her place as the dutiful wife who took care of his ne

was di

he said

brain struggling to process

but firm. "The dry cleaner is two blocks a

tchbook. "I'm going to bed. D

e compliant, gentle Sarah would have apologized for being upset. She would have taken the shirt and ironed it perfectly. He expected her to crack, to come back down in a few minutes and apologize. He waited, but the