He winced, but she didn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing it.
He sat on the opposite end of the couch not close, not far. Just within arm’s reach… but she didn’t reach.
“You didn’t call on your way home,” she said quietly.
He opened his mouth, closed it, and then tried again. “I figured… after earlier… you wouldn’t want to talk.”
Her head tilted slightly, a humorless smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. “That was smart.”
Silence….It filled the space between them like fog.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he offered.
She finally looked at him then not with anger, not even pain.
Just pure exhaustion.
“Jake, you didn’t just hurt me. You broke me!”
He exhaled, running a hand through his hair, as if the right words might come tumbling out with the motion. They didn’t.
She stood slowly, pulling the blanket from her lap “I’m not going to yell,” she said. “I’m not going to cry. I did that already.”
He looked up at her, regret thick in his eyes.
“I’m going to bed,” she added.
“Can we talk tomorrow?” he asked, almost desperate.
“Sure,” she said, voice firm now. “But don’t confuse that with forgiveness.”
Then she turned, leaving him alone on the couch with nothing but his guilt, the echo of her quiet strength, and the sound of a muted TV still playing in the background.
She moved through her usual motions the next morning, slipping out of bed quietly, showering, and dressing. But something was different. Her energy wasn’t happy or maternal. It was exhausted.
She made breakfast for the kids, packed Jake Jr.’s lunch, refilled bottles, and laid out Macy’s outfit.
But Jake’s lunch bag sat untouched on the counter. No leftovers packed. No second cup of coffee waiting for him beside the to-go mug.
Jake came down the stairs around 6:45 am, buttoning his shirt, his tie slightly crooked a rare imperfection. He paused when he saw her in the kitchen, her back to him as she stirred oatmeal on the stove.
“Mornin’,” he said carefully. A beat passed. “No coffee for me?” he asked, trying to sound casual.
She finally turned, eyes cool but unreadable. “Didn’t know if you’d be eating at work again.”
Jake swallowed hard. He wanted to say something but he didn’t. The kids were already at the table, Macy humming to herself and Jake Jr. reading the back of a cereal box.
He kissed the kids goodbye. Kylee turned away before he got to her. He left without touching her.
Jake arrived at Waterman Aesthetic Surgery late this morning. He thought long and hard on his way to the office. He walked through the hallway with his shoulders set, mind heavy, guilt pressing at his ribs like a vice.
Rachel was already behind the front desk, wearing a blush-colored blouse that was too tight and a skirt that hit too high on her thigh. Her smile was ready the moment he stepped in.
“Morning, Dr. Waterman,” she said brightly, tucking a strand of her hair behind one ear. “You look well rested.”
He didn’t smile back. “Morning.”
She stood, smoothing her skirt. “I put the files on your desk. Also, I brought muffins. I remembered you liked blueberry. Want me to bring one back to your office?”
