I blink rapidly. The tears are still there, just behind my lashes. “A little bit,” I admit, voice cracking. “I already miss him.”
She hugs me tighter. And I let go.
The tears roll freely this time, no longer embarrassed, just… tired. “I hate how quiet it gets,” I murmur. “He’s not even been gone that long and the house already feels too big, too hollow.”
“I know,” she soothes, rubbing my back. “But time will pass quicker than you think.”
“I hope so,” I whisper, glancing over her shoulder at the clock on the wall.
Shit.
I pull away, wiping my face with the sleeve of my sweater. “I need to get ready. I have a meeting in an hour.”
“I heard something about you starting a political career,” Alice teases as I walk her to her apartment on the other side of the house.
I freeze mid-step. “No,” I say firmly, turning to look at her. “Politics isn’t my thing. I’ll be working with a nonprofit that needs legal help. And eventually, I’ll open my own firm.”
“That’s an excellent decision,” she says, her smile approving. “Does he know?”
“Dad?” I shrug, feigning indifference, even though a quiet storm swirls beneath my ribs. “No. But he’s already played enough with my life. This is my restart. My rules.”
Because it has to be. I’ve spent too many years away, always returning to a version of myself sculpted by other people’s expectations. But not anymore. This—this is mine. And I won’t let anyone steer me off-course again.
Back in the main house, I open my planner and send the guards my full schedule. Then, on impulse, I send it to Alice, too. If I’m late getting home, she won’t have to worry. She deserves that peace of mind.
After a quick shower, I dress in a high-waisted skirt, a soft cream blouse, and nude heels that click against the hardwood as I walk downstairs. The kitchen smells faintly of the coffee I brewed earlier but never drank.
I pour myself a fresh cup and lean against the counter, staring out the window for a long moment before pulling out my phone. My fingers hesitate over the keyboard, then type the only words that feel right.
Subject: Miss You Already
Dear husband,
You could’ve told me we’d have a security detail in place.
You know I don’t need them—but thank you anyway.
Alice moved in with us, but I think you already know that.
Take care.
I love you.
Isabel
I hit Send and let the phone fall to the table with a soft thud.
The house is quiet again. But not quite as lonely.
Not anymore.
I keep my mind busy throughout the week, diving headfirst into every little detail I can get my hands on. It’s the only way to stop myself from checking my phone every ten minutes, hoping Nate texted. We’ve had so little time together, but somehow, those moments have carved themselves into my bones. I'm still not used to saying ‘husband’ out loud. It feels foreign, but warm—like the kind of warmth you crave when it’s cold and everything else feels uncertain.
“Mrs. Weister?” Mr. Landlon's voice cuts through the fog of my thoughts, pulling me back to reality.
“Hmm?” I blink, realizing I’ve been staring at a plain white wall for far too long. “Would it be possible to knock this wall down? Open it up a bit?” I ask, gesturing toward the dull, separating wall. “I want it to feel less like a legal fortress and more like a place where someone can breathe.”
Mr. Landlon glances at the folder in his hand, then at the wall, tapping his pen against his lip. “Structurally? Should be fine. We’d need approval from the building inspector, of course, but there’s nothing load-bearing here. Seems doable.”
