I wake to the sound of a car pulling into the driveway. For a moment I don’t move. My room is dark, the house quiet except for the faint hum of the heater and the dull pounding still lingering in my head from crying myself to sleep.
Headlights sweep briefly across the ceiling through the window.
Dominic.
The engine shuts off and a door closes. I sit up slowly. Part of me wants to stay in bed. To pretend I didn’t hear anything. But something restless pushes me up. I slide out of bed and step quietly into the hallway. The house is dim, only a faint light glowing from downstairs. I move slowly down the steps, careful not to make a sound. Halfway down, I hear it. Rustling, drawers opening, something clattering softly against the counter. I reach the bottom step and peer into the kitchen. Dominic is standing at the sink. His back is slightly hunched, his shoulders tense. The faucet is running and he’s scrubbing his hands. Dominic shuts the faucet off abruptly. He grabs a towel and begins wiping his hands.
That’s when he turns slightly, and I catch a glimpse of his face.The look on it makes my stomach drop. Not anger, not panic, but shock. Like someone who hasn’t fully processed what just happened. My eyes drift lower. The water running into the sink is tinted red.
Blood.
My breath catches in my throat. For a second I think about saying his name but the word never comes out. I slowly step backward.
Careful. Quiet. Up the stairs again. My heart is beating so loudly I’m afraid he might hear it. When I reach my room, I close the door gently and lean against it. My hands are trembling.
For the first time tonight…
For the first time in a long time…
I realize something about Dominic that I’ve never allowed myself to think before.
Maybe I don’t know him at all.
CHAPTER 15
Regret
I slip quietly back into our bed. The sheets are still warm from earlier, from before everything felt like it had cracked open. I lie on my side, staring into the darkness, trying to slow my breathing. Minutes pass. Or maybe longer. I don’t move, I keep my eyes closed, listening to every sound in the house. Eventually I hear the bedroom door open quietly. His footsteps are soft as he walks in. The mattress dips slightly as he sits down on the edge of the bed.
I keep my breathing slow, even. Pretending to sleep. After a moment he lies down beside me. The bed shifts as he moves closer and his arm slides around my waist. I feel his breath against the back of my neck and then his lips brush softly against my skin. A slow kiss just below my ear and my entire body goes still. He pulls me closer, his chest pressed gently against my back.
Like nothing happened tonight. Like everything is normal. His hand finds mine under the blanket. For a moment I hesitate. My mind is spinning. Blood in the sink. The look on his face. The man I thought I knew.
But slowly… almost without meaning to… I let him hold my hand.
My fingers curl around his. Not out of comfort, not out of love. But out of something I can’t quite name. Something darker that sits quietly in the pit of my stomach.
The next morning Dominic wakes up like nothing happened. He moves through the bedroom quietly, getting dressed for work, the usual routine unfolding as if the night before never existed.
I get ready too. We move around each other in silence, the air between us strangely calm. Before he leaves, Dominic stops near the door. He walks over to me, cups my cheek gently, and presses a soft kiss to my lips.
“I love you,” he says. His eyes search mine for a moment. “And whatever this is… whatever we’re going through… we’ll get through it together. I’ll do anything for us, Era.”
I force a small smile.
“Yeah,” I say softly.
He nods, grabs his keys, and leaves for work. The door closes behind him. A few minutes later I’m sitting in my car in the driveway. The engine is running, but I don’t move. A heavy feeling settles in my chest.
Dread.
I can’t explain why. Eventually I back out of the driveway and head to work. The office is already buzzing when I walk in. Phones ringing, printers humming, people moving quickly between desks with folders and coffee cups.
As I step toward my cubicle, my phone buzzes. A text message. From a number I don’t recognize.
Can we please talk?
A second message appears almost immediately.
