That softened his face, but only slightly.
Life had carved that man out of rock. He had to be, or he wouldn’t have survived.
“Good night,” he said.
“Good night.”
He went out the front door, and she closed it behind him, securing it. Locking everything up.
Did she really think everything would go back to the way it had always been?
Did she?
She was smarter than that. This house was Ben’s.
He was the one with the money. She wouldn’t be able to afford much of anything if she was left with only her writing salary.
She wanted her marriage to work. She wanted to get back together with him.
That was what she wanted.
But she’d been through too much and knew too much about the cost of depending on people to let go of that nagging doubt inside her.
To let go of her survival instincts. Well, she had done that. She’d let herself get complacent. She had been lulled into a sense of security.
Because she had thought she’d found love, just like the Ouija board had promised. Which was dumb.
That whole day had been dumb, and she had known it then, but somehow, later, she had turned it into something meaningful. Had held it up against herself like a talisman.
Like it was a beacon of hope.
She had let it make her stupid.
Maybe she should take the job.
God knew having a little bit of extra money would be helpful.
She felt depressed, though. It felt like giving up. It felt like quitting. It felt like losing faith in him. In them. She had never wanted to be divorced. She didn’t want to be part of a broken family. She was alreadypart of a broken family. People who split up and left each other and didn’t even bother to ...
She went upstairs to her bedroom, which felt alarmingly empty. When she looked around the house and actually saw it, instead of letting the familiarity make it nearly invisible, she realized how little of it was hers.
It looked like his dentist’s office. Bright white with a plethora of neutrals. Her office was like a little goblin horde. Her corner desk had lots of plants, a Himalayan salt lamp, lavender bunches hanging from the wall. She had paints in the corner, and paintings in various stages of completion.
She liked knickknacks. She liked color.
But it was only in her corner of the house.
Like a playroom.
It hadn’t felt that way until now. Until he wasn’t here. Until he didn’t occupy the space with her.
Now, the room might as well be a hotel room.
Just with a lot of her stuff in it.
She lay down across the bed, sideways, not bothering to get under the covers. She didn’t realize she had drifted off until she felt pressure on her chest. Her neck. She felt like she couldn’t breathe.
She couldn’t breathe.
