Speaker 1: Hey, I'm just grabbing us a table on the pat
Speaker 1: ear should I order your usual? Even though I was
Speaker 1: already half way through the front doors of Jack's phone
Speaker 1: pressed to my ear, I heard the line go silent,
Speaker 1: then click, call failed, or maybe she just ignored it.
Speaker 1: Me usually picked up on the first ring when I
Speaker 1: called on Trivia Knights, unless she was running from the
Speaker 1: tea or squeezing in a last second call for work.
Speaker 1: By the time I reached our crew, Nathan and candas
Speaker 1: taking over our regular high tops, Mug's already half drained
Speaker 1: my own half of the conversation At Gunsdale me is
Speaker 1: on her way. Candace asked, her curly hair bobbing above
Speaker 1: a yellow scarf, a hopeful smile pressed into her cheeks. Nathan,
Speaker 1: already thumbing through the paper menus, even though we never
Speaker 1: ordered anything different, didn't glance up. Yes, she supposed to be,
Speaker 1: unless I just imagine that, I said, dropping my bag
Speaker 1: next to the batted bars till I'd staked out a
Speaker 1: hundred times since moving into the neighborhood, I'm not sure
Speaker 1: if she's in mission control mode after all, something about
Speaker 1: aboard dinner. I fished in my jacket for my phone,
Speaker 1: hoping if I played it cool, i'd get a call
Speaker 1: or text nothing and to snorted, Wow, a real sorry,
Speaker 1: urgent thing came up. She did text me a couple
Speaker 1: minutes ago. I put her message on the table so
Speaker 1: everyone could see the neat row of dots. Sorry you
Speaker 1: can't make it. Board member dinner urgent glowing blue on
Speaker 1: the log screen. Nathan arch won brow. Did she get
Speaker 1: a promotion and forget to tell us? He teased to
Speaker 1: Night was our team. Knight always had been, through relationships,
Speaker 1: jobs and flights home for weddings. Trivial was our thing,
Speaker 1: which meant by a kind of silent contract skipping. It
Speaker 1: was reserved for funerals. The flu or devline meltdowns probably
Speaker 1: just donors from that arts council, she keeps, mentioning, I
Speaker 1: could tell my voice was drifting upward. Sounds overly bright. Wow,
Speaker 1: Canna said after a pause. She's missed a lot of
Speaker 1: these lately. She seemed genuinely sympathetic. Can't remember the last
Speaker 1: time she actually won bonus round for us, I shrugged,
Speaker 1: fiddling with my napkin. Yeah, nonprofit stuff kicks up sometimes,
Speaker 1: and of via grants and frondraising. You know the words
Speaker 1: felt strangely scripted as I spoke them, like I borrowed
Speaker 1: them from me his own explanations. Nathan leaned in, but
Speaker 1: do you two even see each other half the week anymore?
Speaker 1: Nathan always did this needling, not malicious, but honest, in
Speaker 1: the way of people who don't edit for embarrassment. It
Speaker 1: landed differently to night, maybe because his blue eyes fled
Speaker 1: down at the empty chame he I always took beside me.
Speaker 1: She's just busy, I said, broke her in a laugh
Speaker 1: between donor things events all that anyway, Did we agree
Speaker 1: on quizzically incline for the team name? Or are we
Speaker 1: quizzically inclined? Was vidoth last week? Good try? Though cand
Speaker 1: has flashed a smile, gentle and apologetic crossed the bar.
Speaker 1: Someone cheered maybe at the game, may be at our
Speaker 1: name de bait. It was all blowed together. I let
Speaker 1: it fold round me, the familiar rhythm of jokes, pints,
Speaker 1: everyone's shoes kick messy beneath our table. I should have
Speaker 1: felt at home, but I was half waiting for another bosocol.
Speaker 1: It was true that me miss triviy sometimes, but it
Speaker 1: was always for something like a last minute press release
Speaker 1: or a crisis level, showing up bladen sweatpants after some
Speaker 1: event over Anne. Never a text, Never something so brief.
Speaker 1: Cann has caught my hesitation. You okay, I've forced a smile,
Speaker 1: just hungry. I think, what's the first round of questions
Speaker 1: to night? But inside a tiness hourness blooned. I squashed it.
Speaker 1: She's busy, you know her. She gets determined and loses track.
Speaker 1: Nothing to be dramatic about. Don't be one of those guys.
Speaker 1: I pulled my focus to the trivic cards, letting everyone
Speaker 1: else's voices carry me along. But the place beside me
Speaker 1: stayed empty, and the acdo did in fade, even when
Speaker 1: Nathan stumbled over the final answer and the rest of
Speaker 1: us laughed too hard, pretending everything was as usual. In
Speaker 1: every relationship, there are the stories you develop unconsciously, the
Speaker 1: routines inside jokes, the lines you volley back and forth
Speaker 1: until they become code for how you fit together. Mia
Speaker 1: and I met at an architect's gallery opening downtown. I
Speaker 1: was just out of Kurad's skull, trying to net work.
Speaker 1: She was three years into her nonprofit job and actually
Speaker 1: knew about half the people in the room that night.
Speaker 1: She'd been in a navy dress, laughing loudly, absolutely comfortable
Speaker 1: in her skin, while I fumbled introducing myself as a
Speaker 1: designer who is between projects. Somehow we gravitated toward each
Speaker 1: other at the after party, neither of us quite sure
Speaker 1: if it was work chatter or floating. She told me,
Speaker 1: you're a little self important, but at least you have
Speaker 1: the decency to look nervous about it. I bought her
Speaker 1: a drink and told her architects could be fine, but
Speaker 1: only after midnight. She called me on and we left
Speaker 1: the bar together, stumbling over hotel lobbies and city lights.
Speaker 1: Our futures suddenly tangled up impossibility. Five years later, the
Speaker 1: city has become our mutual project, the neighborhood bar, our
Speaker 1: official living room. Weakness marked by trivia weekends, by dinner parties,
Speaker 1: or gallery shore she discovered through her non profit circles.
Speaker 1: We learned the hard way how to blend ambition and affection.
Speaker 1: Me as I will swing wildly half the time, she
Speaker 1: flies into a rage over miss deadlines. Half the time,
Speaker 1: she's a paragone of calm, while I whine about clients.
Speaker 1: We exist on Google calendar, color coded for her events
Speaker 1: by meetings our birthdays, our friends kid's birthday, though neither
Speaker 1: of us ever considered kids ourselves. Our bank accounts merged
Speaker 1: by the end of year two, less for romance than
Speaker 1: for convenience, like running a business with shared prucks, She'd said,
Speaker 1: Competition became play. After everboard win or successful bird, we
Speaker 1: bet on dinner. Loser cooked, winner pick the menu. Sometimes
Speaker 1: on long walks, one or the other would joke about
Speaker 1: which of us would crack and get boring first. It
Speaker 1: was a point of pride. We weren't the couple to
Speaker 1: let routine greep in never that never secrets, that typo
Speaker 1: kept us shop, or maybe just anxious never to fall.
Speaker 1: We were proud of the way we made each other better.
Speaker 1: At least that's what we told our friends. But sometimes
Speaker 1: late at night, I'd wonder what would happen if ambition
Speaker 1: and intimacy ever traded places. The next morning, waiting to
Speaker 1: settle our brunch plans, a scroll through our joint credit
Speaker 1: card transactions on the bank ap something I did more
Speaker 1: for curiosity than that of any habits of control. The
Speaker 1: itemized list, almost always predictable, groceries, Martifair, Jax, the occasional
Speaker 1: Yuber glowed back as I waited for me as half
Speaker 1: asleep answer behind me. But two new charges stood out.
Speaker 1: One a fancy restaurant on the north side. She'd never
Speaker 1: mentioned Elforno twenty for our cancelation policy. Another some high
Speaker 1: end boutique had never heard her mention, Hey, what's this
Speaker 1: from Ilforno? I asked, voiced, casual, deliberately playful. She looked
Speaker 1: up from her pilow hemas and laughed, Oh God, please
Speaker 1: don't audit me before coffee, she groaned, shoving away the
Speaker 1: foot work stuff. Nu dona prospect? Can I explain after
Speaker 1: a shower? I honestly can't think until after a shower
Speaker 1: she was already moving, shoving off breakfast, disappearing behind a
Speaker 1: bathroom door before I could say anything else. Usually, money
Speaker 1: was just another form of trivia to us who spent
Speaker 1: more on the last take up binge, who found the
Speaker 1: best deal on wine? That was how we kept score
Speaker 1: transparent teasing, never touch it, But for a split second,
Speaker 1: there was an unfamiliar tightness in away MEA's laugh court
Speaker 1: attention under the surface. She didn't even turn to face
Speaker 1: me when talking about it, just swept it away like
Speaker 1: a dirty towel. She used to explain every strange charge
Speaker 1: with a goofy anecdote or at least somewhat complaint. Not
Speaker 1: this time. The water began to run behind a closed door.
Speaker 1: I stood there, phone in hand, the number on the
Speaker 1: screen shifting from weird to possibly meaningful, and tried to
Speaker 1: shrug it off. Maybe she just hadn't had coffee yet,
Speaker 1: merelyd de M could barely form sentences, let alone manufacture
Speaker 1: a cover story. Still my mind nagged, when did that
Speaker 1: become something I had to factor in? I almost texted Kendies,
Speaker 1: but that seemed premature. Instead I dropped it, at least
Speaker 1: for then. In relationships you learn that some thing's just
Speaker 1: require trust, or at least the semblance of it, until
Speaker 1: it is certain there's a reason not to. That night,
Speaker 1: as we were cleaning up from dinner left over pad
Speaker 1: Thaie one glass of white left in the bottle may
Speaker 1: seem preoccupied her forem vibrating again and again, but always
Speaker 1: face down. She was less present than usual, rushing through tasks,
Speaker 1: glancing toward the clock, jumping slightly at each alert. At
Speaker 1: one point I saw her glance over her notification, thumbed away,
Speaker 1: and let out a barely repressed sigh. I tried to
Speaker 1: catch her gaze, but she ducked her head, scrubbing and stubborn,
Speaker 1: so or stained offerplay, So when's the next big donor dinner?
Speaker 1: Want me to come along and impress every one with
Speaker 1: my deep knowledge of structural engineering and affordable housing. I
Speaker 1: dipped my force into a light joke, hoping for the
Speaker 1: kind of banter we navigated a hundred times. Mia laughed,
Speaker 1: but it was forced a little thin. No, trust me,
Speaker 1: it's exactly as glamorous as it sounds. You don't want
Speaker 1: to be stuck there. I barely want to be stuck there.
Speaker 1: She rinsed the plate, drying her hands with the towel.
Speaker 1: It's just a lot right now. I feel like I'm
Speaker 1: always auditioning for another grant, or making the same speech
Speaker 1: in a different suit. You want to talk about it,
Speaker 1: I asked, gentler. Now work pressure had always been part
Speaker 1: of her world. Instead of answering, she shrugged, not really,
Speaker 1: I just want to finish this, okay, Sorry, I'm not
Speaker 1: fun right now. She flinched, not meeting my eye, and
Speaker 1: left the room. She didn't ask for hug. She didn't
Speaker 1: suggest to show or offer to walk to the corner
Speaker 1: for dessert, like she usually would after a long week.
Speaker 1: After she disappeared into the bedroom, I lingered awhile rinsing
Speaker 1: the glasses, trying to count up the costs of being
Speaker 1: partnered to someone whose job demanded so much social energy.
Speaker 1: But the more I tried to has a normal explanation,
Speaker 1: the more the morning's wordness settled deeper into my chest.
Speaker 1: Sunday morning brought a new flavor of awkward. Over coffee
Speaker 1: and Bagel's. We compared calenders, like always blocking off the
Speaker 1: following Thursday for an event at the museum. Friday for
Speaker 1: a housewarming one of me as colleagues was thrawing, and
Speaker 1: as always trivia the next Tuesday or so, I thought,
Speaker 1: I might need to skip again next week, Mia said,
Speaker 1: checking her phone. Her lips pressed again, this is a possibility.
Speaker 1: I have to host a board dinners for the Capital
Speaker 1: campaign committee. You know how it is if everyone's on
Speaker 1: a different schedule, so I never know until the last minute.
Speaker 1: Is that the same group he had dinner with last Tuesday?
Speaker 1: I asked? She hesitated a microsecond, nearly imperceptible, but real, No,
Speaker 1: that was a policy board. This is the fundraising board.
Speaker 1: She scrolled furiously on her phone. It's all a blur
Speaker 1: right now. Well tell me if it changes. The team
Speaker 1: will survive without you for one night, I managed or
Speaker 1: where I was laying it on teeth thick, but not
Speaker 1: to you. She's mild tight. If they miss me, you'll
Speaker 1: just have to double them for both of us. She
Speaker 1: squeezed my hand, and for a moment the distance melted,
Speaker 1: as if she was remembering how we used to conspire
Speaker 1: against our friends at Trevia, stacked little secrets just between us.
Speaker 1: But the tenderness faded almost as quickly as it appeared.
Speaker 1: That afternoon, as I sat on the couch nursing a
Speaker 1: second coffee, May dashed out for one errand and didn't
Speaker 1: return for almost three hours, arriving with a shopping bag
Speaker 1: from a boutique. Neither of us had ever discussed on
Speaker 1: the faint, unfamiliar scent lingering on her coat. The perfume
Speaker 1: wasn't even the one she usually wore, a soft sitress
Speaker 1: and green tea. Nope, I couldn't quite name this one.
Speaker 1: But it was sharp, spicy, almost floral. She was uncharacteristically giddy,
Speaker 1: tossing the coat on the rack and disappearing into the bathroom, again,
Speaker 1: humming as she went. I tried to spot the boutique
Speaker 1: name on the bag, but she whisted away before I could.
Speaker 1: That evening, after she'd gone to bed, I sculled back
Speaker 1: through a bank ap more oddities, another boutique charged seventy
Speaker 1: three dollars at cottail bar we'd sworn off after me's
Speaker 1: birthday last year, and a digital payment to an indigo
Speaker 1: art's studio. I pressed a finger over the app, considering
Speaker 1: the story she told me about missing trivia a donor
Speaker 1: dinner board meeting. But this bar wasn't anywhere near her office,
Speaker 1: and as far as I knew, May never took out classes.
Speaker 1: Her own words, not mine. I love art, I hate
Speaker 1: making art. I told myself not to spiral. Maybe a
Speaker 1: surprise gift, maybe a tea mouting she didn't want to
Speaker 1: drag me to maybe a hundred things that weren't what
Speaker 1: I suspected. But my mind reprised the scene from earlier,
Speaker 1: the way she ducked my glance, the sharp perfume, the
Speaker 1: smile that vanished as soon as it appeared. On Monday,
Speaker 1: Mia left early, far earlier than she needed to given
Speaker 1: her usual start, but own a breakfast, then an old
Speaker 1: day off site at the foundation. I may not be
Speaker 1: home by dinner, she said, avoiding my eyes as she
Speaker 1: juggled her keys and phone, sliding on a blazer i'd
Speaker 1: never seen before, a deep emerald color striking, an expensive looking.
Speaker 1: She didn't ask for a ride or even a token kiss.
Speaker 1: Could by a quick smile and gone. I stood in
Speaker 1: our doorway holding my coffee, staring at the closing elevator
Speaker 1: for a few seconds after she disappeared. That night, as
Speaker 1: I was settling into the quiet, she texted, might be late,
Speaker 1: don't wait up. The message was clipped the void of
Speaker 1: her usual emojis, or even the little joke she'd once
Speaker 1: sent when she had to miss dinner. Try not to
Speaker 1: eat both our portions. I texted a simple quet, then waited,
Speaker 1: scrolling half heartedly for a half dozen new sites. When
Speaker 1: midnight rolled around and she still wasn't home, I checked Instagram,
Speaker 1: though I never bothered with it unless she asked me
Speaker 1: to double tap a what posed her foundation's official account
Speaker 1: had tired her in an event two hours prior, Smiling over
Speaker 1: a microphone, hair pulled back, the emerald blazer now slightly
Speaker 1: askew over her shoulder. I commented, a nice blazer, looking sharp,
Speaker 1: only for her to reply forty five five minutes later,
Speaker 1: long night. Thanks. By the time she finally arrived, it
Speaker 1: was past one. She tiptoed and softly, thinking I was asleep.
Speaker 1: But I lay still, eyes closed, but mind ticking. In
Speaker 1: the darkness. I could make out a faint woff again,
Speaker 1: that sharp floral perfume. When I shifted, she flinched, then
Speaker 1: waited a beat before climbing into bed, careful not to
Speaker 1: brush against me as she pulled the comforter over her.
Speaker 1: The next day, I tried to chase down the oddity
Speaker 1: of it, all the misdnners, down familiar routines, the odd receipts.
Speaker 1: At lunch, I texted me, want to meet up for sandwiches?
Speaker 1: I can come near your office. She replied, almost instantly,
Speaker 1: not to day, Sorry, pack schedule all day maybe tomorrow.
Speaker 1: No offer to meet half way. No, let's look at
Speaker 1: the week, just a flat rehearse. No. I called Candace,
Speaker 1: my voice as casual as I could manage. You haven't
Speaker 1: heard from me lately, right, she's slammed with work. Candace paused.
Speaker 1: I tried last week, but she never texted back, is
Speaker 1: everything okay? Her tone was gentle, but a little searching. Yeah, yeah,
Speaker 1: just her schedule is nuts board stuff. I found myself
Speaker 1: refusing me at his words, as if by repeating them
Speaker 1: I could make them real. After lunch, I opened the
Speaker 1: bank cap again. Two new charges, the motel bar off
Speaker 1: the highway in a part of town she'd never set
Speaker 1: a foot in, and a digital payment for another evening
Speaker 1: art class. I took a breath, scrolling the list again,
Speaker 1: now looking for patterns. If it was just work, dinners
Speaker 1: or donor events, why the motels, why art classes, whide boutiques? Anne?
Speaker 1: More presently, why was she withdrawing from our life together,
Speaker 1: missing trivia, pulling away from friends, pushing for space. How
Speaker 1: could she snap and then act as if nothing was
Speaker 1: amiss the next morning? That night, as I set about
Speaker 1: making dinner for myself another left over night, MIA's text
Speaker 1: one she might not make it, I heard the dry buzzing. Mindless,
Speaker 1: I went to pull out MEA's work clothes so they
Speaker 1: wouldn't wrinkle. As I fished through her jacket pockets, a
Speaker 1: slim business card slaid out and dropped onto the towers below.
Speaker 1: It was thick, impossibly smooth embossed luxury. The cod read
Speaker 1: Nichols Fail Luxury travel broker. The ink was a deep
Speaker 1: blue offset by a tiny, ete golden compass. On the
Speaker 1: back a hand scribbled number without any note. We never
Speaker 1: traveled by broker. Our last trip to max Coal was
Speaker 1: budgeted to the decimal sure me dealt with affluent donors,
Speaker 1: but she'd never mentioned any travel brokers in her circle.
Speaker 1: I turned the card over and over, considering whether Mere
Speaker 1: had given it to me and I'd just forgotten. But
Speaker 1: as I lined it up next to her foundation's business
Speaker 1: cards in the junk drawer, it stood out like a
Speaker 1: foreign object, expansive, impenetrable, out of place. That night, I
Speaker 1: waited until we got home almost midnight again and showed
Speaker 1: her the card, barely masking my annoyance. She peeled off
Speaker 1: her shoes, barely looking at me, and said, oh, one
Speaker 1: of the donors handed it to me. He's planning a
Speaker 1: trip for the next campaign launch. Sorry, I meant to save.
Speaker 1: He never mentioned travel for the foundation, I said, trying
Speaker 1: for neutral. She blinks, It's not for me, it's for
Speaker 1: the gale A Raffle. They giving away a vacation package.
Speaker 1: I didn't think he cared about the logistics. It was
Speaker 1: a plausible enough explanation, but still I watched for a flicker,
Speaker 1: a microexpression, anything. Her face was blank, her voice distant. Then, James,
Speaker 1: can we not do this now? I am honestly too
Speaker 1: tired to play twenty questions. She dropped the card on
Speaker 1: the counter and left the room, The conversation over before
Speaker 1: it really started. I wanted to believe her. God, I
Speaker 1: wanted to believe her. But now spishenstone ex silt in
Speaker 1: the river bed. I tried to push it away, told
Speaker 1: myself it was my own insecurity. The next day, another
Speaker 1: friend to him from her office, tixted me a photo
Speaker 1: of me at a local bar. Your girl's networking again.
Speaker 1: I think she's recruiting half the room. The time sound
Speaker 1: matched and night she told me she'd be at a
Speaker 1: restaurant funders attained blocks away. Maybe she was just a
Speaker 1: never a quick drink after, I told myself, but the
Speaker 1: location made no sense. Our neighborhood was full of bars,
Speaker 1: but not that one, not one we never went to together,
Speaker 1: not alone. I started noticing subtle shifts. Her phone, once
Speaker 1: left casually on the table, now always lay faced down,
Speaker 1: even when it vibrated. She rarely left it unattended, always
Speaker 1: with an arm's reach, always pocketed if she left the room.
Speaker 1: She set up new Pasco to never mentioned it, but
Speaker 1: I spotted the new unlocked patant when she typed it
Speaker 1: in with her hand cupped round the screen. At night,
Speaker 1: her routine changed. She showered soon as she got home
Speaker 1: instead of sinking into our couch, and left her phone
Speaker 1: in the locked bedroom. Whenever she did dinner together became rare.
Speaker 1: She habitually made excuses late work calls, urgent campaign updates,
Speaker 1: board crosses, Meals were replaced with snacks. Even standing up
Speaker 1: ances short a monotone, the warmth draining out of her eyes.
Speaker 1: One Friday, I offered to drive her to from draising
Speaker 1: event across town. She snapped, it's not necessary. I'm sharing
Speaker 1: a lift with one of the interns. We have to
Speaker 1: pick up table centerpieces on the way. Just you your
Speaker 1: own thing to night. It was the first time I'd
Speaker 1: been actively discouraged from joining her at anything work related.
Speaker 1: I watched her dress up in a new teal blouse,
Speaker 1: carefully doing her hair and makeup, even as she left
Speaker 1: me out of her plans. She was vague when She
Speaker 1: came home that night, blowing past my questions about how
Speaker 1: it had gone long night. Really too many little fires
Speaker 1: to put out, she said, pulling off her jewelry and
Speaker 1: leaving it piled on the hall table. I caught a
Speaker 1: faint trace of that shops by Superfum again, stronger now
Speaker 1: enough to linger in the air after she walked away.
Speaker 1: The next Saturday, Maya and anunt she'd be traveling overnight
Speaker 1: for a conference one not listed on the shad Giggle calendar.
Speaker 1: I't a pop up board training all last minute. Sorry,
Speaker 1: I should have mention it sooner. She packed hurriedly, carefully
Speaker 1: folding clothes I had never seen before, sliding silky slip
Speaker 1: dresses and new heels into her garment bag. I insisted
Speaker 1: on walking her to the lift. Safe travels, I said,
Speaker 1: pecking her on the cheek, lingering a fraction too long,
Speaker 1: searching for her scent, for her gaze to meet mine.
Speaker 1: Un reassure me. She gave a quick almost four smiles offter,
Speaker 1: then a frown but tight closed off. She texted late
Speaker 1: that night, all checked in Wi Fi is terrible. Have
Speaker 1: a good sleep. Instead of sleeping, I sat awake, combing
Speaker 1: through her public social media accounts, the foundation posted a
Speaker 1: shop from a happy hour at entirely different location that
Speaker 1: afternoon in nit Mia was present, but in the background,
Speaker 1: low angle, half hidden, her attention seemingly on someone standing
Speaker 1: just out of frame. She returned late the following evening,
Speaker 1: suit case in hand, smile, careful and thin. I moved
Speaker 1: into Harkurr, but she twitched away. Sorry, exhausted, I still
Speaker 1: smell like airplane. I held up a bottle of her
Speaker 1: favorite wine, trying hard for normalcy. Want to decompress, No,
Speaker 1: I just want to shower and sleep. She disappeared, leaving
Speaker 1: the scent of new per seemed different again. Bolder almost
Speaker 1: must be behind her in the hallway. Day's blood is
Speaker 1: autumn deepened. Miy grew increasingly guarded her aunt's de even
Speaker 1: basic question, short, mechanical. She started skipping our share trivia
Speaker 1: nights as a rule, then stopped inviting me to non
Speaker 1: work dinners, blaming stressed donors busy season. When I pressed
Speaker 1: her about it, she grew defensive, impatient. Look, I'm sorry,
Speaker 1: and not all sunshine and rainbows right now. I'm trying
Speaker 1: to not have our entire foundation collapse under me. Can
Speaker 1: you just give me space to do my job. She
Speaker 1: never used to talk to me like that. Every disagreement
Speaker 1: used to end and compromise, or at least a muttered apology.
Speaker 1: Now the air in our apartment felt stretched, then electric,
Speaker 1: and waiting at our next trivia night, just me, Nathan
Speaker 1: and Candace, nobody bothered teasing me about May's absence. Cannus
Speaker 1: tried to fill the silence, talking about work, about their kids,
Speaker 1: about anything. Nathan glanced at me a few times, hesitation
Speaker 1: behind every word. I threw myself into work to escape,
Speaker 1: maybe or just to avoid staring at closed doors, and
Speaker 1: tried to rationalize everything away. Maybe the foundation really was
Speaker 1: in crisis. Maybe I was just in secure, jealous of
Speaker 1: her successes, or threatened that she was building relationships with
Speaker 1: people I hadn't even met. Still, the clues accumulated, and
Speaker 1: familiar beautique bags in the closet, new jewelry, strange receipts,
Speaker 1: and perfumed laundry. I began to wonder who exactly was
Speaker 1: benefiting from me as work success. Where was the line
Speaker 1: between a professional and private More receipts, another charge for
Speaker 1: the same hotel bar, yet another digital payment for a
Speaker 1: different art studio. Of cob rides from neighborhoods me didn't
Speaker 1: work in. It was now a pattern, not an anomaly.
Speaker 1: I asked her about it on a Saturday. I only
Speaker 1: shared breakfast in weeks. What's this motel bar charge? I
Speaker 1: tried to keep my voice light. She squinted at me
Speaker 1: over her coffee eyes hard. We had a meeting nearby
Speaker 1: that was the only place open. Laid stop making a
Speaker 1: federal case of our receipts. You know how non profit
Speaker 1: stuff works. We hustle all over the city. She didn't
Speaker 1: just shut the doors, she slammed it. The next morning,
Speaker 1: her things were pat for another last minute donor event,
Speaker 1: a itinerary absent from the shared calendar. I began checking
Speaker 1: the credit card daily. Every day brought another unexplained charge,
Speaker 1: mostly small, easy to look a few ones searching, but
Speaker 1: sometimes undeniable. A dinner for two at a romantic restaurant
Speaker 1: a Jewish shop in Midtown. At work, a colleague joked,
Speaker 1: after hearing ME talk about all the events ME attended,
Speaker 1: she's your gaspy man. You sure she's not just throwing
Speaker 1: wild parties on the weekends. It wasn't funny, but I laughed,
Speaker 1: because what else could I do, No matter how far
Speaker 1: I stretched for an explanation, Every knee piece fit only
Speaker 1: if I started accepting things I didn't want to be true.
Speaker 1: One Tuesday, as I prepped the apartment for tch of
Speaker 1: your friend's, hoping maybe MEA would surprise me. Just once
Speaker 1: a notification popped up, an email from the bank subject
Speaker 1: line up coming payment, remind our Hotel Grand Sweet reservation
Speaker 1: a reservation for two nights next weekend. The suite was
Speaker 1: not cheap and it was paid with our joint account.
Speaker 1: Me never mentioned the weekend conference, never noted a trip,
Speaker 1: never flagged it on our calendar. Nothing That evening. When
Speaker 1: she got home, I tried to sound casual. Are you
Speaker 1: traveling for work soon? She blinked, mid and packing her
Speaker 1: gin clothes. The next foe maybe next month for regionals
Speaker 1: are online this year, so probably not. No mention of
Speaker 1: the suite or next weekend. I didn't press yet. My
Speaker 1: mind raised. May be a donor couple, may be a retreat,
Speaker 1: but this week came with special amenities package and romantic
Speaker 1: turn down. The calendar gap was unmistakable. I began to
Speaker 1: catall while everything, each oddity, each mismeeting, each note of
Speaker 1: a new scent each unexplained purchase. That week, paranoia became
Speaker 1: my operating though. I reached out through a fake foundation email,
Speaker 1: asking the hotel for a mess made tailor's event details.
Speaker 1: They replied, M. S. Taylor is confirmed for a two
Speaker 1: nights sweet stay. A second guest is listed for arrival,
Speaker 1: shall be confirmed dinner reservations as well. I made a
Speaker 1: note force myself to eat something. Cole Candice had made
Speaker 1: up a story about a project crisis that needed my attention.
Speaker 1: At home, may have flitted through the living room, barely
Speaker 1: checking in her fung glued to her palm, I watched
Speaker 1: her send a series of texts, face hidden, A single
Speaker 1: notification flash across the screen when she stepped away to
Speaker 1: grab her charger, client A can't wait for our night
Speaker 1: counting down. It was the only time I'd seen the
Speaker 1: contact client. It could have been anything at donor a friend,
Speaker 1: someone from her board, but something about the phrasing, the intimacy,
Speaker 1: the anticipation made my skin crowl Later, at dinner, I
Speaker 1: tried again, where was your conference last time? You never said?
Speaker 1: She looked up, eyes flashing. Why are you grilling me?
Speaker 1: Is this twenty questions? Again? I just miss you, that's all.
Speaker 1: It feels like you're working every weekend. Now she softened
Speaker 1: a hint, but her postures stayed rigid. I know it's hard.
Speaker 1: Just to let me get through the next two weeks.
Speaker 1: I promise we'll regroup, But each time I tried to
Speaker 1: re establish the connection, she had a new excuse and
Speaker 1: new obligation, a new event. One night, she returned home
Speaker 1: late enough that the city outside had come quiet, slipped
Speaker 1: into bed, and turned away, pretending to sleep, almost before
Speaker 1: her head hit the pillow. By now, our friends noticed.
Speaker 1: Nathan pulled me aside after trivia voys. Lord James, is
Speaker 1: everything okay with you too? You don't have to pretend,
Speaker 1: I bristled her, but unable to deny it. I think
Speaker 1: she's just busy. I'm not sure what to think, he hesitated.
Speaker 1: You'd tell me if it was more than that, right,
Speaker 1: I nodded, Of course. I lied. At work, my performance slipped.
Speaker 1: I grew snappish with my team, showed up late to meetings,
Speaker 1: made elementary errors in my design drafts. My boss, who
Speaker 1: considered personal drama and occupational hazard, let a hand wrest
Speaker 1: on my shoulder after a missed deadline. He want some
Speaker 1: time off. You look like half, she said, tone both
Speaker 1: stern and kind. I'm mutter thanks, declined the offer. What
Speaker 1: would I do with free time? Watch meal, work out
Speaker 1: for another urgent event? One day, desperate to feel in control,
Speaker 1: I called the hotel directly adopted a brisk, mildly officious voice.
Speaker 1: I'm calling from the tail of foundation for a mess
Speaker 1: tailor's upcoming reservation. Could you confirm her guests name? The
Speaker 1: receptionist hesitated, finally offering, we have her as primary guests
Speaker 1: plus guests end Veil, would you like to arrange flowers
Speaker 1: for the sweet Nick Veil, the luxury travel broker whose
Speaker 1: card i'd found. It's not something in me, but I
Speaker 1: carefully methodically closed the coal, thanked her and sank to
Speaker 1: the floor in our kitchen, as if the tiles beneath
Speaker 1: me could absorb the shock. When ME returned that evening,
Speaker 1: radiant from some event I hadn't been invited to, she
Speaker 1: was flushed with energy too much, almost as if overcompensating.
Speaker 1: I tried to act normal, peppering her requestions about her day,
Speaker 1: our finances, her schedule. Her answers were even deliberate, and
Speaker 1: I realized she was now expertly dodging every opportunity to
Speaker 1: explain more than the bare minimum. No detail, no slip,
Speaker 1: no candor. That night, as she slept beside me, quite
Speaker 1: careful and arm furon defensively, toward the edge of the bed,
Speaker 1: I stared at the ceiling, the puzzle pieces almost clicking
Speaker 1: into place, But the true picture was still murky, a
Speaker 1: fair financial trouble, secret project, something more. The evidence was there,
Speaker 1: humming below the surface, but the final answer, her answer,
Speaker 1: remained just out of reach. She was close by a
Speaker 1: shadow beneath the sheets, but the distance between us had
Speaker 1: yawned into something vast and cold, and I wasn't sure
Speaker 1: yet if what I was about to find would hear
Speaker 1: the fracture or finally, permanently it split it wide open.
Speaker 1: The Saturday next rolled around with a kind of static
Speaker 1: charge humming under my skin. Mea announced over oatmell too
Speaker 1: casually that she'd be crashing in the office's hospitality sweet
Speaker 1: after a donor dinner. Sprawling renovated spase on nonprofits, sometimes
Speaker 1: used when digataries v as it did from out of town.
Speaker 1: It'll just be easier since the event runs past eleven,
Speaker 1: there's no point coming all the way back, she said,
Speaker 1: stabbing at her boiled eggs with a necessary force. I
Speaker 1: could have asked to come, offered to help set up,
Speaker 1: suggested we grab breakfast the next morning. Instead, my mind
Speaker 1: blowed between the image of her king into a sterile
Speaker 1: boards room and the knowledge that the hotel reservation still
Speaker 1: stood booked and upgraded and touched on our shared account.
Speaker 1: Instead of fighting eight, I'll let her go with a
Speaker 1: half smile and okay text if you need anything. I
Speaker 1: went through the motions of my own day, hit the
Speaker 1: climb in Jim, return emails, join Countess and Nathan for coffee.
Speaker 1: The questions orbited around the gaps in our lives to
Speaker 1: tell me she owes us a trivial match, and you too,
Speaker 1: hunkering down for winter yet? But but I reflected, redirecting
Speaker 1: talk to the latest architecture debacle from work. If they
Speaker 1: felt the tension, no one called me out. That night.
Speaker 1: Our apartment felt cavernous. I wandered from room to room,
Speaker 1: searching for objects to put away, clothes to iron, coffee
Speaker 1: mugs to load into the dishwasher. The quiet pressed in
Speaker 1: until out of muscle memory, I poured myself a drink
Speaker 1: and dialed at the foundation's page on my phone. The
Speaker 1: mia was a still shot, her dark hair up in
Speaker 1: a keffulch n'on lips slockered into a smile that didn't
Speaker 1: quite touch her eyes. She stood at the center of
Speaker 1: a semicircle of doughnors, flanked by a manner I didn't recognize.
Speaker 1: I zoomed in, tall, sandy hair just beginning to gray,
Speaker 1: open collar, the flash of an expensive watch on his wrist.
Speaker 1: His hand had clothes, but not touching me's elbow. Was
Speaker 1: this Nicholas Veil, the mysterious enn Veil. My stomach buzz
Speaker 1: as I compared his face with the name on the
Speaker 1: travel broker's card. No confirmation, but enough of a thread
Speaker 1: to follow. I screamed, capped the image, telling myself I
Speaker 1: was being thorough not obsessive. I poured another drink and
Speaker 1: wait it. Checking the shared calendar out of mindless habit
Speaker 1: still blank for me. The only notation for Sunday was
Speaker 1: cleaners ten zero, a m in my own hound rating.
Speaker 1: I opened our credit card app, half expecting to see
Speaker 1: you in explicable charges. Scroll down the screen, nothing obvious.
Speaker 1: One coffee shop, a minor ride, shair fare, nothing that's
Speaker 1: green affair or sche mane. I flexed my jaw, almost
Speaker 1: hoping for a neon sign. Instead, the silence settled deeper
Speaker 1: and now later I texted her, event going OK. The
Speaker 1: reply all good exhaustive crafts. Soon I let the phone
Speaker 1: drop onto the couch, and satisfied, I told myself I
Speaker 1: should go to bed, but the apartment's hollowness was unbearable,
Speaker 1: so instead I went off for a walk. The city
Speaker 1: was bright, maskless in the glare of late night bars
Speaker 1: and the odd haunk of a passing car. On impulse,
Speaker 1: I loot my route toward the boutique where those unfamiliar
Speaker 1: charges had originated. To my surprise, the store was still open,
Speaker 1: a small event going on inside, windows steamy and full
Speaker 1: of soft conversation. I stood outside, squinting inside, half open,
Speaker 1: half dreading that I might spot mea But no, just
Speaker 1: a group of women clustered to rand scarves, well heeled
Speaker 1: and laughing. The woman at the counter, noticing me, waved blightly.
Speaker 1: I turned, blending back into the blow of passing bodies,
Speaker 1: feeling ridiculous and exposed. Sunday morning, Mia returned. She wore
Speaker 1: her fatigue like a veil, how slightly touzled. I was
Speaker 1: ringed faintly with blue. She brought coffee, thrust it into
Speaker 1: my hand without a word, and headed straight for the shower.
Speaker 1: Clothing bundled in her arms, a faint recidy of last
Speaker 1: night's puffim tangled with the sharp tang of hodel soopa
Speaker 1: chemical sweetness that stuck to her skin. Too many new scents,
Speaker 1: not the one she wore for me. When she finally emerged,
Speaker 1: she was business like, folding laundry, firing off tics, barely
Speaker 1: glancing in my direction, unless to ask if I'd feed
Speaker 1: her orchid or check a calendar reminder. Long night, I probe,
Speaker 1: knowing the answer wasn't a bad exhaustion. She offered a
Speaker 1: thin smile. You know how these things go, asked, kissing
Speaker 1: until midnight, I kill for actual rest. Was Nicholas Veil there,
Speaker 1: I asked, feigning casual interest. She paused, hand stilling in
Speaker 1: a sheet fold who a shrug breaking the moment. Just
Speaker 1: saw someone new in the donor photos. Looked about the
Speaker 1: right age for a big shot travel guy. She shook
Speaker 1: her head, considering, then shrugged. Maybe I met a million
Speaker 1: new faces last night. Not really my crowd, something cold
Speaker 1: slid down my spine, liar distracted or running out of
Speaker 1: plausible explanations. I watched her finish folding, then dis appear
Speaker 1: into the bedroom to dress, the door shut, muffling her
Speaker 1: from me. That afternoon, Candace called, Hey, I have a favor.
Speaker 1: Me said she could help with the silent auction next week,
Speaker 1: but she won't answer my follow up about what items
Speaker 1: the foundation wants to include? Can you nudge her? Sure?
Speaker 1: I said, glad for the excuse, but my voice must
Speaker 1: have sounded flat. Candace's tone sharpened. Can I ask ye
Speaker 1: see mof Is everything okay? I think so. She's just
Speaker 1: drowning in work lately. I barely see her too. Have
Speaker 1: truce all the way down. Candace let the silence twist
Speaker 1: before replying, Just promise me you'll talk to her if
Speaker 1: you need you. We'll love you both, James, I mutter
Speaker 1: to thank you, feeling for the first time. The distance
Speaker 1: grow not just between me and me, but between us
Speaker 1: and our friends, like a stage curtain quietly lowering before
Speaker 1: the final act. That evening, me declined my suggestion of
Speaker 1: a Sunday night Peter and movie, opting instead four calls
Speaker 1: She needed to make. As she paced in the spare room,
Speaker 1: I listened for her tone was a donor brightness, one,
Speaker 1: something performative. Every time I neared the door, her voice dropped.
Speaker 1: When I asked if she wanted me to join the call,
Speaker 1: she snapped, its work, James, you want the foundation falling
Speaker 1: apart on me. I retreated to the living room, fighting
Speaker 1: against the urge to explode. I remembered abruptly how we'd
Speaker 1: once share charging cords and foot massages on Sunday nights,
Speaker 1: trading stories and decompressing together. How she wants to ride
Speaker 1: a people who lived on mute coals. Now other walls
Speaker 1: felt paper thin. I wanted to writ through them into
Speaker 1: whatever secret to mention me now occupied. Later that week,
Speaker 1: at my architecture firm, I found myself zoning out during meetings,
Speaker 1: pages of blueprints blurring before my eyes. My project lead,
Speaker 1: BLERO blunt, efficient woman with very little patience for sloppiness,
Speaker 1: caught me in the hall. James Roughwick, she asked, offering
Speaker 1: the opening of concern rather than irritation. For once, I hesitated,
Speaker 1: not sure how honest to be yea home stuff, I'll
Speaker 1: get it together, she nodded, Just don't let it stack up.
Speaker 1: Ye don't strike me as someone who wants to lose
Speaker 1: both a marriage and a job in the same month.
Speaker 1: The statement landed so close to the bone that I
Speaker 1: almost laughed working on it, I manage grateful and stunn
Speaker 1: After work, I stopped by Jacksford drink, more out of
Speaker 1: avoidance than had it. Nathan was there, holding a seat.
Speaker 1: He cocked my mood immediately. You're not waiting for me here,
Speaker 1: are you? No, I said, voice hollow. He let that settle,
Speaker 1: then shifted the subject as if deflecting his own discomfort,
Speaker 1: but several drinks in his courage caught up to him. Listen, man,
Speaker 1: you don't have to say, and I won't press. But
Speaker 1: there's everything with you too, Okay, Candace is worried. Hell,
Speaker 1: I'm worried. We're fine, He came out too quickly. Work
Speaker 1: is all consuming for her. I think I resented it
Speaker 1: for a while. Maybe I still do. He met my
Speaker 1: eyes and didn't blink. You sure that's all it is,
Speaker 1: he paused. I saw her the other night down Hump.
Speaker 1: She ducked out of a bar by herself, but she
Speaker 1: was dressed like she wasn't coming home. You know what,
Speaker 1: I mean, my hand's tightened round my glass. I know
Speaker 1: she says it's all donor stuff. I left the rest
Speaker 1: and said I could feel Nathan's pity thick a syrup
Speaker 1: between us, but he didn't push father. When I got home,
Speaker 1: Mea was already in bed, the bedside lamp glowing low.
Speaker 1: She turned over as I slipped in, feigning sleep. I
Speaker 1: stared at her back, wondering if she was waiting for
Speaker 1: me to ask the real questions, not the polite standings.
Speaker 1: But fear sat on my tongue, heavy and immovable. The
Speaker 1: ache of not knowing was now matched only by the
Speaker 1: terror finally confirming what I begun to suspect. My dreams
Speaker 1: that night were splendored. I wandered for empty hotel, always
Speaker 1: MIA's voice echoing from a room I could never quite find.
Speaker 1: At some point I woke up, sweaty hot, level with
Speaker 1: my throat, and heard her in the next room on
Speaker 1: a call, whispering gentle, punctuated by laughter that was soft
Speaker 1: and private, to the kind she used only for me.
Speaker 1: Before I pressed the pillow over my ears, squeezing tears
Speaker 1: from the backs of my eyes. Anger or humiliation, I
Speaker 1: couldn't be sure. With Halloween approaching, our routines became even
Speaker 1: more fractured. The week of the supposed hotel stay, Mea
Speaker 1: prepped in secret, washing as out of new clothes, separately
Speaker 1: buying travel sized toil a free she never brought to conferences.
Speaker 1: I watched as she triple checked her suitcase, hot pounding,
Speaker 1: unable to summon the courage to ask at Ray. The
Speaker 1: night she left, she offered me a brief hugger kind
Speaker 1: of formality, the way you'd embrace a friend before a
Speaker 1: long trip. I tried one more time, text when you
Speaker 1: get in to let me I know you're safe, of course,
Speaker 1: she said, but the words fell flat. An hour later,
Speaker 1: my phone Chine settled in big day tomorrow, love you,
Speaker 1: no photo, no follow up. I spent the evening pacing
Speaker 1: our apartment, unable to shake the feeling of being a
Speaker 1: spectator in my own relationship. Around midnight, a notification arrived
Speaker 1: from our credit card hotel grant sweet minnebah sixty eight dollars.
Speaker 1: I called at the front desk, once again pretending to
Speaker 1: be foundation staff, just confirming a mess. Tao checked in
Speaker 1: safely and was her guest able to join her. The
Speaker 1: woman on the lime reply yes, both a mess tailor
Speaker 1: and mister Vale arrived an hour ago. Shall I pass
Speaker 1: on a message? Ah? No, thank you, just checking details
Speaker 1: for later billing. I hung up, palm sweating, heart racing,
Speaker 1: now undeniable. It was Nicholas Vale, the name that had
Speaker 1: cropped up, subtle as an aftertaste through every clue. I
Speaker 1: stared at the wall and show whether to scream, drink,
Speaker 1: or tip the coffee table on to the floor. I
Speaker 1: took screenshots of the hotel notifications, the charges, and pulled
Speaker 1: up me as work Instagram out of habit. She'd posted
Speaker 1: Asafi from a Sumila conferent room the early morning, ready
Speaker 1: to conquer the world. I stared at it, amazed by
Speaker 1: the composure she could summon, the performance perfect enough to
Speaker 1: convince strangers, even as I now held a pattern of
Speaker 1: re seats and evidence in my hand that made denial impossible.
Speaker 1: I didn't text her that night, too, choked by this
Speaker 1: whirl of humiliation and anger. The next morning, my phone
Speaker 1: buzzed again, room service, thirty four dollars. I tracked every charge,
Speaker 1: locking them into spreadsheet that felt at once insane and
Speaker 1: deeply necessary, as if the math mate salvage whatever was
Speaker 1: left of my dignity. By Sunday night, I couldn't sit
Speaker 1: with it any longer. Nathan texted, sensing some sort of crisis. Brother,
Speaker 1: come over, we'll watch the game, distract ourselves. I debated it,
Speaker 1: but said no, I needed space to think. But round
Speaker 1: ten me a texted busy day conference running late, see
Speaker 1: you tomorrow night, No emoji, no call. I sat on
Speaker 1: the edge of the bed, fall in hand, heart slow
Speaker 1: like winter's sap. She would return. I knew with the
Speaker 1: careful story. May be too tired to explain, may be
Speaker 1: full of details that papered over the silences. I would
Speaker 1: listen because part of me wanted the performance, needed it
Speaker 1: to be about stress, or ambition, or any of the
Speaker 1: things we'd once congratulated ourselves on being open about. When
Speaker 1: she returned Monday, she brought expensive chocolates and a silk
Speaker 1: scarff bow tucked with the buttit name I now recognized
Speaker 1: from the charges gifts of peace, offering force, and she
Speaker 1: couldn't confess. She smiled shyly, sorry for being done so much.
Speaker 1: I know I've been difficult. Her voice was soft, her
Speaker 1: eyes wet with the shimmer of actual remorse. I almost
Speaker 1: believed her I almost let it go, but when I
Speaker 1: leaned in to touch her, she stiffened, flinching as if
Speaker 1: my hand burned. I took the gifts, set them aside,
Speaker 1: and asked, was the conference useful? She nodded, not meeting
Speaker 1: my eyes. Productive, A lot to process. Glad to be back,
Speaker 1: though the words hung between us fragile as glass. Later
Speaker 1: that night ME fell asleep, quickly, breathing deep and even
Speaker 1: I stared at her back, at the gentle slop of
Speaker 1: her shoulders, and realized with sudden clarity that the real
Speaker 1: intimacy had migrated else were her laughter had taken root
Speaker 1: in strange hotel rooms, next to a stranger. My phone vibrated,
Speaker 1: an automy had bank a love for another. In the
Speaker 1: art studio, payment popped up. The studio's number was listed, so,
Speaker 1: on a mad impulse, I called the Indigo Art Studio.
Speaker 1: Missus Julie, how I am following up on a class
Speaker 1: from me a tailor? Was her guest able to join
Speaker 1: her this week? Julie hesitated, I don't have guest named Handy,
Speaker 1: but she attended the private couple's workshop painting in line.
Speaker 1: Can I send you the info? No, that's enough, thank you,
Speaker 1: I said, every word, tasting like tin in my mouth.
Speaker 1: I added it to my collection of evidence. For the
Speaker 1: rest of the week, I became a ghost in my
Speaker 1: own life, of presence in our home, but not really
Speaker 1: alive to it, floating through each day numb, alternating between
Speaker 1: hope and horror, between wanting to shake her and needing
Speaker 1: to protect myself from the final obliteratory answer. Then that Friday,
Speaker 1: as I walked through the lobby of my office, I
Speaker 1: spotted her mia outside of coffee shop two blocks away.
Speaker 1: She was with the men I recognized from the photo
Speaker 1: of the tall, well dressed one, Nicholas. They were laughing,
Speaker 1: leaning in clues, not touching, but her face was animated
Speaker 1: in a way I hadn't seen in months. I duped
Speaker 1: into a doorway, half wanting to confront, half ready to
Speaker 1: collapse into tears. The part then he put a handlow
Speaker 1: on her back as she headed for the curb. She paused,
Speaker 1: and I watched as she smiled up at him, an intimate,
Speaker 1: familiar smile that had for five years belonged to me.
Speaker 1: She walked away, falling to her ear. I let them go,
Speaker 1: watched her disappear into waiting car, and stackered through the
Speaker 1: rest of the day, like someone half cut from the world.
Speaker 1: When I got home, the apartment felt like a stranger's
Speaker 1: meal was already there. Showered and changed dinner, heating in
Speaker 1: the microwave. She looked at me over her bowl, searching
Speaker 1: my face. You're okay, My voice broke on the answer, yeah,
Speaker 1: just a long day. I sat across from her, stared
Speaker 1: at the pulse beating at the base of her neck.
Speaker 1: My hands shook, barely visible. Later, in the pale blue darkness,
Speaker 1: I stared up at the ceiling and tried to remember
Speaker 1: the last time we laughed together, the last time her
Speaker 1: hand reached for mine across a crowded room, the last
Speaker 1: time I believed her stories didn't have a second meaning.
Speaker 1: That night, I came within an inch of saying at all,
Speaker 1: emptying my pockets and heart on the kitchen table, demanding
Speaker 1: honesty or at least acknowledgment. But I couldn't do it.
Speaker 1: Not yet, not one doubt still flicked. It could be
Speaker 1: some enormous misunderstanding, some byzantine fundraising dance, some elaborate job
Speaker 1: perfore me devar Saturday morning, I made his coffee and asked,
Speaker 1: do you love your job still. She looked up, surprised
Speaker 1: by the question most days, Ya, why you seem I
Speaker 1: don't know far away? She hesitated, considering her words. I
Speaker 1: am tired, James. I know I seem distant, but we're
Speaker 1: just in a rough season. Okay, I nodded, biting the
Speaker 1: inside of my cheek, unwilling to say what I really meant. Then, unpredictably,
Speaker 1: she reached across the table, hand covering mine. Briefly, we'll
Speaker 1: get through it, promise. The contact was brief, but electric.
Speaker 1: I almost broke. Instead, I squeezed her fingers and let
Speaker 1: the lie of its hour. Her fingers slipped from mine,
Speaker 1: and for the next few seconds I simply watched the motion,
Speaker 1: the small, ordinary act of her hand leaving, knuckles brushing
Speaker 1: the wood grain, her pinky grazing my mug where she'd
Speaker 1: let it rest. She gave a half smile and collected
Speaker 1: her phone from the table, saying, I'll call candics. By
Speaker 1: the way, I forgot all about her auction. They it
Speaker 1: was the sort of proskekes that we'd started collect lately,
Speaker 1: like a series of full stops. I rinsed my cup
Speaker 1: and watched a foam swell in the sink, my head
Speaker 1: buzzed as if I gulped cold. They were distorted, tremoring noise,
Speaker 1: somewhere between panic and resignation. Last night's new confrontation left
Speaker 1: me hollow, but I still wasn't ready, not quite. I
Speaker 1: needed to be sure that what I would say wouldn't bounce, offer,
Speaker 1: wouldn't be twisted quickly forgiven. So I grabbed my phone, agitated,
Speaker 1: too restless for home or comfort, and walked the block
Speaker 1: to Jacks, even though the bar didn't open for another hour.
Speaker 1: Along the way, I mentally lined up the events, charges,
Speaker 1: hotel confirmations, photos, her changed demeanor. I'd been gathering details
Speaker 1: like a private detective and writing a story I could
Speaker 1: barely believe, but I still hadn't spoken it aloud, not
Speaker 1: one direct accusation, not to any one except the silent
Speaker 1: archive of my phone's notes. I circled the block until
Speaker 1: the bar's door was unlocked, then sat at the end
Speaker 1: of the counter with the coffee and ordered nothing stronger.
Speaker 1: The morning crowd was thin, mostly regular trade and crosswood clues,
Speaker 1: and half hour the jerks nobody asked why I was there,
Speaker 1: appreciated the anonymity For twenty minutes. I just let the
Speaker 1: city noise and Boss mells full in the gaps, giving
Speaker 1: me space to prepare. Eventually, my phone buzzed, can you
Speaker 1: pick up eggs on your way home? MIA's turn was neutral, polite, domestic.
Speaker 1: It felt like a deliberate bomb, as though she'd learned
Speaker 1: to diffuse any tension by falling back into the realm
Speaker 1: of the ordinary. I texted Shure, pocketed my phone, and
Speaker 1: paid for the coffee. The cup, still three quarters full.
Speaker 1: Outside the world looked clean and bright, and I felt
Speaker 1: too jagged for it, brittle as a winter branch, ready
Speaker 1: to splinter. Back inside the apartment, I paused before opening
Speaker 1: the door, stealing myself. Miya had thrown her hair into
Speaker 1: a pony tail, lopped up open, answerable calm. She'd cooked
Speaker 1: eggs already. Hey yo, ka, she asked. I was flicking
Speaker 1: up voice warm. Almost the spouse, I remembered, fine. I lied,
Speaker 1: walking past her into the shower, desperate for a moment's insolation.
Speaker 1: The touse fogged up the steam, blocking out everything for
Speaker 1: a while. When I got out, Mia had left to
Speaker 1: run err and she texted me meeting Donor for coffee,
Speaker 1: see you for dinner. She was always running into Donner's,
Speaker 1: always somewhere that required a reason. I couldn't check a
Speaker 1: witness I'd never meet all day, I woodn'tly marked time.
Speaker 1: I tried to work, but kept double checking the spreadsheet,
Speaker 1: hovering a finger absent mindedly over the rows of charges,
Speaker 1: feeling sweat prick my hair line. I'd even die all
Speaker 1: the hotel once more, just to see if the staff
Speaker 1: would offer anything new, but got nowhere. I turned to
Speaker 1: my own email, maybe something anything in her calendar sink,
Speaker 1: which admore light. There were only the professional shareable entries,
Speaker 1: the sweet travel chargers. The meetings all are personal. Time
Speaker 1: blocked is private or tentative. At some point my hands
Speaker 1: started to shake. I texted Nathan, can we talk, then
Speaker 1: stood on the balcony for almost half an hour, fighting
Speaker 1: the urge to hurl my phone into the street. He
Speaker 1: met me at Jack's. Our conversation was brief, almost stilted.
Speaker 1: I think she's having an affair, I said, forcing the
Speaker 1: words up beneath the dinner of afternoon trivia warm ups,
Speaker 1: and I think I know who it is. Nathan didn't move,
Speaker 1: absorbing the brunt of it. How sure are you? I
Speaker 1: hated the hesitation in my voice. Pretty damn sure, her charges,
Speaker 1: her hotel dates, her new routines. It's all lined up.
Speaker 1: He ran a hand through his hair. Do you need
Speaker 1: me to do anything? I shook my head. No, just
Speaker 1: needed to say to some one. He reached from my
Speaker 1: shoulder and pressed his pond there firm. You were not crazy, James.
Speaker 1: I almost laughed, almost whipped. I just nodded, grateful for
Speaker 1: the anchor. When I stepped back into the apartment. Later,
Speaker 1: Mia was already home, preparing pasta. The apartment smelled of garlic.
Speaker 1: Laughed at peptin from the podcast. She always left running
Speaker 1: in the kitchen to keep the silence at bay. For
Speaker 1: a moment, I stood in the hallway watching her through
Speaker 1: the crack in the kitchen door. She sprinkled herbs, her
Speaker 1: motions quick, efficient, humming along. I remembered how her hands
Speaker 1: used a slow when she cooked, reaching for me even
Speaker 1: in the middle of a recipe, always eager for chatter, touch,
Speaker 1: a joke. Now every movement was solow, purposeful, insolated. At dinner,
Speaker 1: the conversation with small Weather, her front raiser, a colleague's
Speaker 1: troublesome cap. She glanced up at me a couple times
Speaker 1: as if trying to judge my mood to recalibray. Half
Speaker 1: Way through, I said, quietly, can we talk about something?
Speaker 1: After she looked up stottle naw I hesitated after dinner.
Speaker 1: For the rest of the meal, we ate in his
Speaker 1: islends dishes. Finally done, I took a seat cross from
Speaker 1: her at the dining table. She hovered uncertainly, then sat,
Speaker 1: folding her hands tention and welded into her posture. I started,
Speaker 1: I know about you and Nicholas. The silence was titled
Speaker 1: vast and violent. Her eyes hottened, then flickered with something
Speaker 1: I'd never seen, a panic or shame, or maybe an
Speaker 1: urge to flee. She didn't answer at first, just breathed shallily,
Speaker 1: her shoulders constricting. I know about the hotel, I continued,
Speaker 1: the charges, the awe classes, the beautique, the emails of
Speaker 1: the lies. I know about the wheat and the flowers.
Speaker 1: I know you've been with him. Her fast blanched, then tightened.
Speaker 1: For several seconds. She said nothing. She tapped a beat
Speaker 1: on the table. The movement frantic. You what have you
Speaker 1: been following me? My breath caught you lied to me
Speaker 1: repeatedly about work, about where you were about everything. My
Speaker 1: words were measured, but my hands trembled. She found her voice,
Speaker 1: her tumb blustering. I lied because you wouldn't understand, and
Speaker 1: nobody would. Do you want to hear about my every move,
Speaker 1: every dinner, every She cut herself off, biting her tongue.
Speaker 1: The baffle lines were drawn and spilled water imposter crumbs
Speaker 1: on the table. The room's air thickened too warm. I
Speaker 1: want you to tell me the truth. I SAYVV was flat.
Speaker 1: Did you sleep with him? She blinked hard, lip shaking,
Speaker 1: then nodded, barely perceptible. Yes, she whispered, I'm sorry. I
Speaker 1: I never wanted it to go this far? For how long?
Speaker 1: She shook her head, hands folding tighter. A few months,
Speaker 1: it was it got complicated. He's a board member now
Speaker 1: and I he wanted to support the foundation. In a
Speaker 1: I slammed upon to the table, not hard, but enough
Speaker 1: to make the silver jump. Don't make this about workmere,
Speaker 1: don't make it about the foundation. This this broke us.
Speaker 1: She stared down at the wood grain, tears gathering at
Speaker 1: the corners of her eyes. I know I was lonely, James.
Speaker 1: You were always working late. We stopped being a team.
Speaker 1: I tried to get your attention, but it felt like
Speaker 1: I was shouting under water. Nicholas was there, and I
Speaker 1: made it more than it was. My chest constricted. You
Speaker 1: could have said something, You could have ended it, or confess,
Speaker 1: or asked me to fight for you, but you lock
Speaker 1: me out. Ye lied, She wiped her teek angrily. I know,
Speaker 1: I know. I thought I could fix it before you've
Speaker 1: found out. I didn't. Her voice creaked, then broke entirely.
Speaker 1: I felt a morror, with anger slipping through me in waves.
Speaker 1: You spend our money, I said, quieter. Now you let
Speaker 1: me think it was my fault. You were unhappy. She
Speaker 1: didn't answer, just hunched him. Were crumpling. A long silence
Speaker 1: stretched between us. No one moved. A heating pipe clank
Speaker 1: somewhere in the wall, punctuating the ache. I pushed my
Speaker 1: chair back, scraping the legs across the tie. I can't
Speaker 1: ye this any more. I need Ye to be gone,
Speaker 1: or I will be She stared at me, wild eyed,
Speaker 1: as if noticing for the first time that something fundamental
Speaker 1: had chatter, something past repair. I stood, walked into the
Speaker 1: bedroom and packed a bag. Mechanical, all motion and no
Speaker 1: thought tooth brush, a couple shirts, my laptop the charger.
Speaker 1: I texted Nathan, asking if his offer still stood. His
Speaker 1: reply came back immediately, doors open. I'll wake up if
Speaker 1: you knock. I zipped the bag and re entered the kitchen.
Speaker 1: Meal was still at the table, hands clutching the Edge's
Speaker 1: eyes read. I'll send you my plans, I said, my
Speaker 1: own Voskaeveden. We'll figure out the accounts of the calendars
Speaker 1: all that, but I can't stay to night. She nodded once,
Speaker 1: then again softer. I looked at her, tried to find
Speaker 1: a phrase, some sentence to bridge what we'd been with
Speaker 1: where we were now. There was nothing. I went for
Speaker 1: the door. Maya's voice brutal stopped me. Aye, I am sorry, James.
Speaker 1: There was nothing left to say. I stepped into the hall,
Speaker 1: closing the door behind me, hearing a click like a
Speaker 1: gavel falling. The elevator ride was silent and no music,
Speaker 1: just the hum of cables and the throwing in my chest.
Speaker 1: I capped my eyes, glued to the seam of the doors,
Speaker 1: willing myself not to crumble. Before I was out of
Speaker 1: sight on the street, the air was sharp with coming
Speaker 1: winter and Each step toward Nathan's felt both immensely heavy
Speaker 1: and curiously freeing, as if detachment arrived on a physical
Speaker 1: level before my heart knew what to do with it.
Speaker 1: By the time I reached his building, the city felt empty,
Speaker 1: hollowed out, fold the routines of my old life closed
Speaker 1: behind the door. At home, Nathan's face when he let
Speaker 1: me in was a study and concern and confusion. But
Speaker 1: he said nothing, only nodded, leading me to the spare
Speaker 1: bedroom without fuss. I tossed the bag on to the
Speaker 1: edge of the two firm gas bed, then sat staring
Speaker 1: at the unfamiliar, pale walls. I scrawled my phone, lingering
Speaker 1: on old photos, MEAs laughter on our roof deck, a
Speaker 1: tense smile beneath Christmas lights, arms slung over each other's shoulders.
Speaker 1: It seemed like it belonged to some one else. I
Speaker 1: silenced the device and placed it on the knights and
Speaker 1: the blue glow now and welcome. I listened to the
Speaker 1: clicking scrape of Nathan making tea in the kitchen behind
Speaker 1: the closed door. I finally let myself exhale, the aches,
Speaker 1: gooring through ribs and chested grief that felt both final
Speaker 1: and incomplete. Then, for long stretch, I simply lay on
Speaker 1: my back, shoes still on coatez. It back spilled up
Speaker 1: beside me, staring at the textured ceiling, letting the cacophony
Speaker 1: and my head dull into higher empty a register. At
Speaker 1: some point Nathan tapped on the door and left a
Speaker 1: mug of tea outside. I heard his footsteps, recede, felt
Speaker 1: the hush of a house holding its breath around pain
Speaker 1: of count fix. I didn't cry, or sleep or move.
Speaker 1: I just let my heart fresh and quiet, let the
Speaker 1: certainty of the ending in bed itself, the permanent reverse
Speaker 1: edged to whatever story Miror and I had inhabited together.
Speaker 1: I heard the phone buzz again, muffled by my jacket pocket.
Speaker 1: I ignored it, curling deeper into the too clean, too
Speaker 1: unfamiliar bedding. The light from the street cast thin triangles
Speaker 1: on the wall, hinting at a city that kept moving,
Speaker 1: even as my own world had ground to halt. My
Speaker 1: mind wandered to accounts and keys, to practicalities, decisions that
Speaker 1: would matter to morrow to night. All that was left
Speaker 1: was the blank space where our future had been drawn,
Speaker 1: now cleanly erased in the blue hush without words, I
Speaker 1: allowed myself the relief of not having to guess any more.
Speaker 1: I listened to my own breath, watched the slow pulse
Speaker 1: of headlights against the walls, and rested in the one
Speaker 1: thing that remained, the certainty. Finally that the truth was
Speaker 1: no longer mine to keep alow. Nathan was a presence
Speaker 1: in the doorway for a second, offering a crooked, uncertain
Speaker 1: nod when he caught my eye. The mogs wont seeped
Speaker 1: through my hands, and I could make out a faint cinnamons,
Speaker 1: and he dusted it for comfort. Unsure how Ele's to help,
Speaker 1: I nodded my thanks, not trusting my voice. He understood
Speaker 1: and quietly disappeared. The hush that followed settling around me
Speaker 1: like a neutrality, packed, nothing forced, nothing expected except survival.
Speaker 1: As the hours crawled forward, I barely moved except to
Speaker 1: kick off my shoes and call tighter into the m
Speaker 1: familiar mattress. I heard muted noises from the other side
Speaker 1: of the door, an old sitcom, A shower cabin is shutting.
Speaker 1: I let my mind drift into the blankness where exhaustion
Speaker 1: meets raw, bright pain, scraping apart what I felt from
Speaker 1: what I should do. It wasn't until the early edge
Speaker 1: of morning that the realities began sharpening. Mere and I
Speaker 1: had been a team for so long that even the
Speaker 1: prospect of dismantling its structure showed bills, passwords, routines. Even
Speaker 1: the way our lives were crosshatched in the eyes of
Speaker 1: friends felt catastrophic. I couldn't see a way forward, only
Speaker 1: the weight of each small logistical cut. My phone saf
Speaker 1: faced down, steady with them read messages. Somewhere in there
Speaker 1: would be her repeating apologies, asking when I'd be home,
Speaker 1: or maybe just going silent, unable to argue something about
Speaker 1: that silence. The anticipation of it ached in the mirror,
Speaker 1: but I left the phone for now. It was remarkable
Speaker 1: how quickly you could learn to live with muted notifications,
Speaker 1: with cold sheets, with insoluble A knock, Nathan again, you
Speaker 1: want anything, Bagel. I shook my head, managed thanks, and
Speaker 1: pressed the heel of my hand to my eyes as
Speaker 1: he retreated. For a moment, the normalstly threatened to flood
Speaker 1: me friendship, this weird echo of college break ups and
Speaker 1: dawn room escapes. But I was too old, too married,
Speaker 1: too dismantled for nostalgia to patch anything lying there. I
Speaker 1: played and replayed the last hours, her face, the way
Speaker 1: her breath hitched as she reached for an excuse, the
Speaker 1: shape of her mouth on his name, the thin wedge
Speaker 1: of truth in her confession, the thought of their hands
Speaker 1: touching their rooms, their laughter at jobs I would never hear,
Speaker 1: echoed at my ropes, shameful and I manageable. But even
Speaker 1: as grief willed up, something faded to a certain impudence.
Speaker 1: In no longer having to pretend, no longer chasing the
Speaker 1: reasonable story. There was relief in that freedom, but also
Speaker 1: dread in the abrupt emptiness, the certainty that would all
Speaker 1: be public by a week's end, that our friends would
Speaker 1: ask what have opinions, would gossip in careful, sympathetic circuits.
Speaker 1: I couldn't stand the thought of explaining myself to any
Speaker 1: one else, so I didn't. A few hours later, my
Speaker 1: phone chand me, as expected, first to text can we talk,
Speaker 1: then another please let me know you're safe, and a
Speaker 1: voicemail that I ignored, not wanting have voiced, threw out
Speaker 1: my anger into pity. With self doubt, I scrolled absently
Speaker 1: through the other messages my mom sending banelcheck In's candace
Speaker 1: with a single pointed hard emoji that managed to feel
Speaker 1: like actual comfort. I answered none of them yet, needing
Speaker 1: this hangover of solitude. Mid morning, Nathan piqued, and again,
Speaker 1: you want to get out of here, go for a walk,
Speaker 1: he offered. I shook my head, mumbling not yet. He
Speaker 1: didn't press. It was one of the things I'd always
Speaker 1: respected about him. No advice, just space, not trying to
Speaker 1: patch what was unpatchable. Eventually, I managed to drag myself
Speaker 1: into the bath room wash My face listened to the
Speaker 1: running water as if it could carry the noise of
Speaker 1: my head into the drain. I tried brushing my teeth,
Speaker 1: swallowing back the metallic taste of Gil, the bitter taste
Speaker 1: of being left out, lie to locked out of a
Speaker 1: life I thought was co authored. I thought, how soreal
Speaker 1: it felt. A crave, a signature, a statement, something official,
Speaker 1: to mark this is real. Back in the room, I
Speaker 1: forced myself to open the funds groll through the shared
Speaker 1: account's accounts. I'd have to untangle. I clicked me his
Speaker 1: name in our chat, reading but not responding as her
Speaker 1: messages tumbled in each line. Raw, I'm sorry, Please come
Speaker 1: home so we can talk. I never wanted to hurt you.
Speaker 1: I don't know what I want. I set the phone down.
Speaker 1: I knew with the blunt called certainty that I don't
Speaker 1: know what I want was the final injury. If she
Speaker 1: had wanted me truly, there would never have been a
Speaker 1: question or an opening for someone else. I did not
Speaker 1: want to be a second round of negotiation. I deserved
Speaker 1: some one whose answer was less qualified, whose loyalty didn't
Speaker 1: break under the weight of loneliness or ambition. By knewing
Speaker 1: the shape of consequence had arrived emails from my banks
Speaker 1: fraud alert recognizing the freeze on our shared accounts I'd
Speaker 1: placed the night before, a few impersonal questions about recent charges.
Speaker 1: The structure of ending was mechanical, turn off, autopay, split accounts,
Speaker 1: notify the landlord. It was almost comforting, the work of
Speaker 1: divorce by bureaucracy, so much easier than talking to Mia.
Speaker 1: Nathan offered to drive me to the apartment if I
Speaker 1: needed to pick up anything. I hesitated, No, not yet,
Speaker 1: maybe later, need to call my parents. My voice cracked
Speaker 1: on the word, but Nathan nodded, not making it more
Speaker 1: than it was. Around three, another wave of texts from
Speaker 1: Mia and going to my parents' place for a couple days.
Speaker 1: I understand if you need time, please tell me if
Speaker 1: he wants to talk. I typed and deleted responses, nothing
Speaker 1: good enough or true enough to send. In the end,
Speaker 1: silence was easiest. I slipped on my coat and let
Speaker 1: myself out the service door, walking aimlessly down the block.
Speaker 1: The city moggie enclose around me. Each window feltlet for
Speaker 1: another life. I pressed forward, counting steps and stout of heartbreaks,
Speaker 1: trying to distance myself from the taste of our lost argument.
Speaker 1: When I finally circled back, Nathan sat at the kitchen table,
Speaker 1: light up open, pretending not to monitor me. I made
Speaker 1: coffee too strong a bird age, and stood drinking it
Speaker 1: by the window, staring out at the criscrosal traffic, people
Speaker 1: hustling into stores, everyone else apparently surviving the day. It
Speaker 1: wasn't until sundown, as light flickered across the sky line
Speaker 1: that the practicalities returned, with the nagging persistence. I would
Speaker 1: need to officially tell people I'd already frozen the accounts,
Speaker 1: but everything else was in the wind. Which friends to inform,
Speaker 1: how to inform her parents, whether to send the simple
Speaker 1: it's over, or a long braided tale of hurt and responsibility.
Speaker 1: My fingers hovered over my contacts, the words threatening to
Speaker 1: fall out in the sale or hethic pattern of break
Speaker 1: up broadcasts. No possible version of me or myself would
Speaker 1: look good in this story, I realized, and maybe that
Speaker 1: was the point. Finally I called her parents awkward brief
Speaker 1: my voice tilted. We're taking some time apart, I said, carefully,
Speaker 1: and DEMI will need support. I left out every detail,
Speaker 1: kept my own voice, even offering nothing for them to die,
Speaker 1: say or explain away with the helpful, invasive warmth. Her
Speaker 1: parents didn't press, just murmured sympathy, and we hung up
Speaker 1: with mutual uncertainty. Line between the pleasantries, I felt heavier,
Speaker 1: not lighter, but at least no longer four secrets. By
Speaker 1: the time I'd hung up, my throat was dry and thick,
Speaker 1: my hand and steady. Nathan, wise to my state, began
Speaker 1: a task at the stove, scrambling eggs, fussing over toast,
Speaker 1: producing a meal I could hardly taste, but it anyway,
Speaker 1: grateful for even the illusion of care. That night, as
Speaker 1: I composed a group message to Candice, Nathan and a
Speaker 1: couple of other friends of me and I are taking
Speaker 1: some time apart. I'd appreciate no questions for now that
Speaker 1: I felt the line close behind me, there would be
Speaker 1: more to do, more forms, more keys to exchange, more
Speaker 1: conversations and cuttings and rearrangements. Before now, all I could
Speaker 1: manage was the announcement, the declaration cross our most entwined
Speaker 1: community that we were done. The fault line is now
Speaker 1: visible to every one. When Nathan said his mug beside mine,
Speaker 1: the only sound was a city siren, far off and brief.
Speaker 1: I nodded, half smiling, drained and emptied. I was a werder.
Speaker 1: In the next days, I'd have to go back, pat
Speaker 1: more things, confront me in person, or officially split whatever
Speaker 1: could be split. But for a moment, I let myself
Speaker 1: be only a man. Was soft, pressent, unfamiliar carpet, thence
Speaker 1: with sadness, and finally the stead inniciple that let me
Speaker 1: walk out. After dinner, I packed my bag tighter, check emails,
Speaker 1: deleted anything from me unread. When I washed the tea mug,
Speaker 1: the ac felt momentous. Final. The foundations of our life,
Speaker 1: so lovingly built, so easily toppled, were dissolving, settlement by
Speaker 1: settlement into separate, parallel lives. In that small room, I
Speaker 1: allowed just one final item, a slow scroll through old
Speaker 1: trivia photos, moments captured and now made infinitely far away. Laughter,
Speaker 1: her faces pressed together, harms slung in routine victory. As
Speaker 1: I set the phone down, a dunness cove through my
Speaker 1: exhaustion and grief. Not a clean closure, but a certainty
Speaker 1: whatever came next, pain felt dull, empty or bright, would
Speaker 1: at least be real. Nothing hidden, no coroners left unexamined.
Speaker 1: A kind of fragile peace settled over me. The outlines
Speaker 1: of my future were known, speared, and incomplete, but the
Speaker 1: era of not knowing, of desperately managing suspicion was gone.
Speaker 1: That finally was enough