Speaker 1: I dropped my overnight bag just inside the door and
Speaker 1: breeze in the familiar wax and herb scent of our apartment.
Speaker 1: The sunday quite so different from the high pitched of
Speaker 1: a lapping laughter of my old college friends pressed close
Speaker 1: around me. I left my suitcisse mostly zipped, just peeling
Speaker 1: out my laptop charger and a rumbled silk scarf. Mark
Speaker 1: kept the lights low, even though dusk hadn't fully settled.
Speaker 1: The living room had its amber lampeyze, soft and urban
Speaker 1: and deep, slow beats filtered from his speaker. He didn't
Speaker 1: notice me at first, absorb behind his laptop, half faced
Speaker 1: towards the city. There was energy beneath his stillness, his
Speaker 1: sort of spring in his which was odd for man
Speaker 1: who once described Sunday evenings as pre Monday grief sessions
Speaker 1: in our wedding vows. I expected him to look up
Speaker 1: the second he heard the lock, but instead I got
Speaker 1: half way to the kitchen before his forest drifted across
Speaker 1: the room. Hey h good trip, Hey yeah loud, but
Speaker 1: I survived, I answered easy, my shoes off by the counter.
Speaker 1: I brought you that word cheese you like from Cora's Place.
Speaker 1: You hero of the hour, toss it in the fridge,
Speaker 1: thin cowl, right till late, so I'll need snacks, lie,
Speaker 1: He grinned at me a little too broadly. The impulse
Speaker 1: hit then, as it always did, wine a couch and
Speaker 1: noseguard essay, audibly fighting for room with Mark's playlist. I
Speaker 1: reached for the cabinet where we kept the bottles we
Speaker 1: don't share with strangers. It should have been there, the
Speaker 1: good peina brick red label, a small routine luxury we
Speaker 1: didn't use for guests. The shelf held older, fuller bottles,
Speaker 1: but my favorite was missing. I peered around, expecting to
Speaker 1: find it half drained but uncooked. Nothing. I finally called out,
Speaker 1: did we finish that pena last week? The one we
Speaker 1: were saving? Mark didn't look up from whatever he was typing.
Speaker 1: Imm a man the red that was last night? Actually sorry,
Speaker 1: had a mood and inspiration just hit. So I poured
Speaker 1: a glass, then another, promised myself one, swore I'd save
Speaker 1: you one, and well you know how it goes. I
Speaker 1: killed the bottle. He punctuated the admission with a chuckle
Speaker 1: that slid toward the cashle. Not sheepish, not apologetic, he
Speaker 1: launched right back into a screen. That was an expensive inspiration.
Speaker 1: I teas, hoping for a flash of shared guilt. Instead,
Speaker 1: he spun around in his chair, face of open and animated,
Speaker 1: and pulled me in for a quick kiss on the cheek.
Speaker 1: Just means you have to go out with me and
Speaker 1: buy the next bottle. Right, I'll pay, I promise. I
Speaker 1: wanted to laugh. Maybe I did, But something and how
Speaker 1: easiest cheerfulness seened. His refusal to linger to blush nagged
Speaker 1: at me. Normally malc cooffet a little drama if he
Speaker 1: overtook my favorite treats, a comic poem, a note on
Speaker 1: the fridge. Are distracted, whispered sorry while pulling me close.
Speaker 1: Now he was breezy, as if the bottle meant nothing.
Speaker 1: My fingers lingered on the stemless glass I'd intended to use.
Speaker 1: Did you at least toast me, he snorted, rolling his shoulders.
Speaker 1: I toasted your survival in the wiles of New Jersey?
Speaker 1: Tis that count? Honestly, it wasn't as fun drinking alone.
Speaker 1: Spent most of the night arguing with the slack demons anyway,
Speaker 1: Remember Daisy from LAYD. Whole channel devolved into jokes about
Speaker 1: chasing penguins and other madness. You'd appreciate how broken my
Speaker 1: editorial team is becoming. It's all means and sugar highs
Speaker 1: chasing penguins, I echoed. It didn't ring any bell. Normally
Speaker 1: his work stories were more editorial. Now he dropped some
Speaker 1: new idiom and only half explained. He shrugged inside joke.
Speaker 1: I guess, sorry, my brain's still mostly somewhere else. Before
Speaker 1: I could prod, he changed the music, standing to toss
Speaker 1: me another grin as he did. An up tempo jazz
Speaker 1: thing i'd never heard huffled into the air. He added,
Speaker 1: you looked higher, babe. Want to eat here? Or should
Speaker 1: I order something? He was already back to domestic mark
Speaker 1: on solicitous abeat. I ran a hand through my hair,
Speaker 1: letting myself move with his current. Let's just eat in.
Speaker 1: You pick tight, then he replied, decisive, already typing, and
Speaker 1: we'll make up for the wine next weekend if you
Speaker 1: promise not to abandon me for your mad friends. His
Speaker 1: laughter held a note of something I couldn't aim. Sometimes
Speaker 1: trust is just not noticing. But that night, as we
Speaker 1: settled on the couch for noodles and the remants of
Speaker 1: a net folk series. We'd both half abandoned. The Pinos
Speaker 1: absence gnawed at me. It wasn't the missing bottle, or
Speaker 1: even Mock's lack of apology. It was the breezy way
Speaker 1: he described his knight, as if something else, some one else,
Speaker 1: had been there for the tosting there's a safety in ritual.
Speaker 1: For us, it meant clinking glasses with one dish hand washed.
Speaker 1: But there's lit all moments between brush strokes of our
Speaker 1: collective life. Mark and I came together in that world,
Speaker 1: the late night readings, the clatter of plastic cups at
Speaker 1: release parties, the swell of literary gossip. He was the
Speaker 1: first person to see me as both serious and sly.
Speaker 1: Evenings and cafays turned into doll on in each other's arms,
Speaker 1: and over the years our partnership became a tandem negotiation
Speaker 1: between his lud charisma and my quieter observation. He was
Speaker 1: the darling of every magazine party, witty Lee's shouldered, a
Speaker 1: hand always stretched out for the next person arriving. I'd
Speaker 1: always see myself as his counterwait, t anchoring us back
Speaker 1: from the endless networking, the tactical banter, the performance art
Speaker 1: of self promotion, that kept us both employed. I grew
Speaker 1: up learning to read a room before speaking in it.
Speaker 1: Mark grew up walking into every room with something clever
Speaker 1: to say. Our circle of friends, almost all urbanized, accidental
Speaker 1: lifers in the industry, rotated through apartments, pop up exhibitions, readings,
Speaker 1: little roofed up birth the affairs. Most of us, like
Speaker 1: Mark and me, were couples, but unofficial. No kids cluttering
Speaker 1: up our calendar, creative ambitions inject We moved in waves,
Speaker 1: sometimes closer, sometimes drifting. Sometimes Mark and Lucas tradings, speculative fiction,
Speaker 1: jokes at ture m Sometimes me and Nod swapping favorite
Speaker 1: essays in the corner. A life together built itself the
Speaker 1: way only two people chasing similar dreams could equal pots,
Speaker 1: competitive and loving. Mark's magazine was on a roll lately,
Speaker 1: big spreads, viral listicals, ambitious new hiring. Mine in that
Speaker 1: same year, hit setbacks, new leadership, budget cuts, endless of
Speaker 1: strategy conversations in the private corners of our kitchen, I
Speaker 1: confided in him. He draw me near quit some ancient
Speaker 1: tweet remind me this industry shows up every one. Sometimes,
Speaker 1: He told me once that create a boundaries scared the
Speaker 1: hell out of him. Everybody says, don't mix writing and romance,
Speaker 1: or work in life or whatever, But what else is there?
Speaker 1: Every collaboration is a little bit of both. There are
Speaker 1: too many blowed lines in this world. Han, he said
Speaker 1: this line on our rope, with his head in my lap,
Speaker 1: right before I fell asleep. At the time, I felt profound. Now,
Speaker 1: six years after our wedding and a thousand organizational icebreakers later,
Speaker 1: I still clung to the rituals. Celebratory dinners are out
Speaker 1: of the way places, extravagant note stache in books, little
Speaker 1: congratulations on surviving. Monday flowers brought home every so often
Speaker 1: there were things reguarded to from me that meant keeping
Speaker 1: Sunday morning sacred to coffee, slow breakfast. The time spread
Speaker 1: out like a quilt for mark. It was created, a space, messyplaylist,
Speaker 1: a tap tap of keys into the night, whisky poured
Speaker 1: into our best glasses for no reason. We'd mapped out
Speaker 1: our differences and folded them carefully into the domestic compromise.
Speaker 1: Both of us understood, at least how easily one could
Speaker 1: start to leave the other outwork parties. You forgot to
Speaker 1: invite your spouse to your flirtation saken for collaboration. Trust
Speaker 1: wasn't automatic, but overtime it grew into the air between us,
Speaker 1: invisible and thick. That's why, as the credits rolled and
Speaker 1: Mark shifted his attention back to his laptop with a
Speaker 1: distracted God, I'm so behind, I started a mental note.
Speaker 1: Not anger, not even worry, just the faintest scrip against
Speaker 1: something smooth. The next day, I left the apartment earlier
Speaker 1: than usual. My first attention was to reclaim normalcy, maybe
Speaker 1: get to my emails before the sleep deprive. Monday panic
Speaker 1: set in. Mark was still dozing when I left, sprawled
Speaker 1: diagonally across the bed under a twisted blue sheet. He'd
Speaker 1: always slept like a child at camp, limbs at odd angles,
Speaker 1: jaw slack has, spilling across a pillow, as if he'd
Speaker 1: rolled straight out of French New Way Film and on
Speaker 1: to West twenty second Street. We had little routines around
Speaker 1: morning's too. He made eggs or biggels, but only if
Speaker 1: he was up first. On my way out, I stuck
Speaker 1: a sticky note on his phone. When the day underneath
Speaker 1: a dumcutcheon penguin, I doodled without thinking that evening I
Speaker 1: met Mark at a gallery opening one of those things
Speaker 1: you say, yester, before remembering how artificial most of these
Speaker 1: conversations feel. The place glowed with cheap white wine and irony.
Speaker 1: Mark was already talking loudly to a small group Hans,
Speaker 1: making big circles in the air, telling a story about
Speaker 1: his office sinking into recursive, mean driven madness. We chased penguins,
Speaker 1: he laughed, don't ask. People around him grinned, a few
Speaker 1: even nudged each other. I smiled, letting my face match
Speaker 1: the energy. But I didn't quite land on the memory.
Speaker 1: The phrase had come up last night. Clearly it was
Speaker 1: an in joke, and I wasn't in anet. Mark saw me,
Speaker 1: swept me over with a there's my brilliant wife and
Speaker 1: put his arm around my waist. Hannah, you'd love this,
Speaker 1: Serenes praying her finger opening lacoiet and we all ended
Speaker 1: up drawing peg winds on her bandage. Lucas keeps sending
Speaker 1: her in tactic memes. I laughed, but I watched, just
Speaker 1: for a moment, how he said her name, Doreena. He
Speaker 1: described her the way he described any bright new friend
Speaker 1: from work. His eyes during that semi private trinkle, he
Speaker 1: usually reserved for conversations just between the two of us.
Speaker 1: I'd never met Serena, not in any memorable way. He
Speaker 1: checked his phone and grinned, reading some apparently funny criip
Speaker 1: from his screen. I tried not to overthink it. Our
Speaker 1: friend groups blurred all the time. New names entered the
Speaker 1: maps of our lives, sometimes sticking, sometimes evaporating after a
Speaker 1: single launch. Still, he pivoted quickly, arm sweeping wide as
Speaker 1: he recanted another messy editorial blooper, this time starring Luca's,
Speaker 1: but returned to Serena's name before the end. Anyway, Serena said,
Speaker 1: at first, and she wins the group chat for the week.
Speaker 1: No contest, he laughed again, glancing down at his messages,
Speaker 1: oppress lightly. Has Serena always been on your team? He
Speaker 1: shook his head. Efficient, breezy. She's a ringer from the
Speaker 1: other side, cross editorial meetings, all that were merging, some
Speaker 1: columns more that I can stand. She's all right, super sharp.
Speaker 1: He didn't catch my glance, or if he did, he
Speaker 1: played it off. Soon we were thumbing through tiny crackers,
Speaker 1: making polite noises to people we barely remembered. But when
Speaker 1: a party's social engine faultered our love between sets, I
Speaker 1: noticed mucklingered near Serena while I talked to Naudia. Their
Speaker 1: voices didn't carry, but Serena is laughed, Nincho, it's way over.
Speaker 1: When it came time to leave, Mark was a little
Speaker 1: too affectionate, making a theatrical show of wrapping his arm
Speaker 1: around my back as we wind through the puddle dey
Speaker 1: pro sidewalks. It was a slightly forced gesture, the kind
Speaker 1: my therapists liked to call a performative repair. Maybe I
Speaker 1: was being paranoid, or maybe Mark was just flush with
Speaker 1: gallery wine and the unstable sweetness of Monday night. I
Speaker 1: considered pressing about Serena right then. Instead, I told him
Speaker 1: about my boss's lates spreadsheet fiasco and let the city
Speaker 1: swallow my doubts for a night. Tuesday afternoon, I left
Speaker 1: work early, an unexpected dead line miracle. Mark, always trusted
Speaker 1: to work from home, had said he be on calls
Speaker 1: until at least six. I opened the apartment quietly, half
Speaker 1: hoping to catch a mid ramble about word counts. Instead,
Speaker 1: the entire place radiated with her weird, almost festive energy.
Speaker 1: His playlis thundered in the office a ride of jazz riffs.
Speaker 1: On my way to the bedroom for a miscarff, I
Speaker 1: passed the office door and caught a flush from his
Speaker 1: laptop just as he stepped up for water messenger window
Speaker 1: in the corner. Serena. My movement made him jump, but
Speaker 1: he recovered. Hey, babe, coffee, run want anything. His tone
Speaker 1: felt slightly brittle, higher than usual as he snapped his
Speaker 1: laptop closed. Ah, no, I'm good you Working with Serena
Speaker 1: to day, I sat carefully casual. He grinned a bit sheepish,
Speaker 1: trying to wrangle her into meeting deadlines. She's chaos like
Speaker 1: editing with a weather app. I returned a smile, but
Speaker 1: as he ducked out the answer capt eckoing in my head.
Speaker 1: He barely said Serena's name a week ago. Now. He
Speaker 1: spun a joke and shut his laptop instead of showing
Speaker 1: me his latest column. The small distance registered only as
Speaker 1: a prickle for now. I. Thursday, Mark claimed he'd be
Speaker 1: out late day work meeting three blocks from our place.
Speaker 1: Could run till nine were just fizzling to tie and
Speaker 1: commiseration held texaf at stay up. He came home at
Speaker 1: ten thirty, smelling not quite like whisky, but something richer,
Speaker 1: fruitious send I knew from her tail borrows down near
Speaker 1: Hudson Yards. No food bag with him, just a single
Speaker 1: takeout container with one order. Mostly eden. Long meeting, I asked,
Speaker 1: folding a blanket on the catch while he shrugged out
Speaker 1: of his jacket. Pretty teedies. Honestly, Serena overcaffeinated the group
Speaker 1: and everybody lost the plot. Halfway through, I ducked out
Speaker 1: early grout food. He was tired, looser, leaning into the story.
Speaker 1: Part of a fight I wanted to pick who gets
Speaker 1: take up for one on a two person salary, just fizzled. Instead.
Speaker 1: I followed him to the kitchen, kissed him on the neck,
Speaker 1: and said, maybe next time you bring extra needles deal,
Speaker 1: He said, I is not quite meeting mine. The next
Speaker 1: night was the launch party for my magazine, specially as
Speaker 1: she possibly all last the way, layoffs kept rumbling in
Speaker 1: the distance. Mark came with me, along with a codder
Speaker 1: of friends and the two or three people who still
Speaker 1: cared about paper issues. He moved among groupings, carrying drinks,
Speaker 1: trading jokes with Lucas and Serena. Yes there she was
Speaker 1: now scraping the rim of a wineglass with one finger
Speaker 1: as she spoke to him, with her head just a
Speaker 1: touch too near his arm. I watched the body language.
Speaker 1: Nothing avert but careful, Aileen, and that was close, just
Speaker 1: short of intimate. I drifted over, introducing myself with a quick,
Speaker 1: warm handsache. Surina smiled tightly, then slipped out within seconds.
Speaker 1: The conversation between us lasted maybe twenty syllables, none of
Speaker 1: which I can perfectly recal. If I'd been a less
Speaker 1: patient person, I'd have imagined she was running away. I
Speaker 1: turned to Mark. She always is shay, He sipped his drink. Nah,
Speaker 1: just new to our brand of chaos. Don't take it personally.
Speaker 1: She's weired about big crowds, He turned the conversation, pulling
Speaker 1: me into the group. Laughing louder than usual. He told
Speaker 1: a joke that finished with a Hanna always knows the
Speaker 1: punchline before anyone else does, and pressed my hand for
Speaker 1: the crowd to see. He drew attention to us, reminding
Speaker 1: friends we were together, married, happy. I wondered whether he'd
Speaker 1: kiss me more times that evening in public than he
Speaker 1: had in private all week later. Walking home, he was quieter.
Speaker 1: I almost ask, are you sleeping with her, but the
Speaker 1: words felt prittle, thecused torry, I'll earned instead, I talk
Speaker 1: about the special insert about Noddy's speech about the endless
Speaker 1: Reorgate work. Over the next few days, his explanations for
Speaker 1: Miss Dinners were increasingly vague. Brainstorming sessions, last second networking drinks,
Speaker 1: he takes that he was a drowning and slat, but
Speaker 1: posts from a rooftop bar that didn't look like his
Speaker 1: Staf's regular haunts. Once scrolling through Instagram, a Saucerenus posted
Speaker 1: the blur of two glasses and under them a hard
Speaker 1: back book. I recognized in the margin inscription quick blocky,
Speaker 1: almost illegible, mark's handwriting. Yes, no last name acquired. I
Speaker 1: closed out of the app pulse running. The inscription could
Speaker 1: have meant team present maybe or editorial gift. Yet there
Speaker 1: was intimacy in a way. The photo was staged. No faces,
Speaker 1: just hands, two wine glasses pressed close and that book
Speaker 1: between them, like a secret, the same book. Mark once
Speaker 1: said we'd read together when the world was less busy.
Speaker 1: I waited two days, then casually asked Naudia about Serena
Speaker 1: after our shift at the coffee shop. Naudua, always neutral,
Speaker 1: always diplomatic. She's just another editor, Naudgya assured me, too,
Speaker 1: quickly glancing away to swipe at her nice enough keeped
Speaker 1: mostly to herself, subject closed. At home that night, Mark
Speaker 1: was oddly attentive, overcompensating, perhaps with a rush of homey
Speaker 1: posset and a playlist of music he used to play
Speaker 1: me when we first started dating. I let myself enjoy it,
Speaker 1: watching him like candles and spin a story about office antics.
Speaker 1: Yet when his phone vibrated, he reached for it, glanced
Speaker 1: at the name, and then tugged it face down, asking
Speaker 1: do you need anything for tomorrow? Mionnees was now constant,
Speaker 1: but hard to pin down. It was everything and nothing,
Speaker 1: the careful body language, the new names and stories, the
Speaker 1: guarded phone. Once, at two in the morning, awoke to
Speaker 1: find him still in the living room, scrolling through something
Speaker 1: under a blue cloth. He slipped back to bed without words,
Speaker 1: curling toward me in the dark. On Saturday, I cleaned
Speaker 1: the kitchener ritual in the trash, a beauty hotel napkin
Speaker 1: folded into quarters, logo visible. It was from a place
Speaker 1: neither of us had ever visited together, but the date
Speaker 1: written in the back match that tea and dinner night
Speaker 1: Mark was away. I opened our shared streamy account as
Speaker 1: a distraction, meaning to clear out the continued watching list.
Speaker 1: The last stream film wasn't our usual action trash nor
Speaker 1: the Spanish mystery at Qued. It was a gentle, romantic
Speaker 1: indie one we'd promise to say for a weekend. Someone
Speaker 1: had watched the final five minutes. I remember standing in
Speaker 1: the kitchen, spoon and hand, suddenly not feeling hungry at all.
Speaker 1: As weeks passed, our Sunday morning ritual evaporated. Mark claimed
Speaker 1: he needed to get ahead, which really meant scrolling Twitter
Speaker 1: or writing emails before noon. Our breakfasts were now solo,
Speaker 1: me quietly reading while he muttered himself in the next room.
Speaker 1: I started keeping a mental calendar, cross referencing Mark's editing
Speaker 1: nights with social posts, matching stories with photos in the background.
Speaker 1: Little inconsistencies unraveled, almost gentle in their dissolution. Mention of
Speaker 1: a bar and knew he never liked laughter about inside
Speaker 1: jokes that made no sense to me, stories about colleagues
Speaker 1: had never met. Our mutual friends. Started referencing moments I
Speaker 1: hadn't witnessed. Lucas tees Mark about his vagus night at
Speaker 1: the East Village. Noddy mentioned as karaoke come back events.
Speaker 1: Mark's said, will work nothing more. I smiled through it,
Speaker 1: but inside I assembled puzzle pieces that refused to lock.
Speaker 1: I wanted to be run. I wanted this to be
Speaker 1: gardened variety, neglect, not betrayal. One Friday, after Mark left
Speaker 1: for just a quick brainstorm at Serenas, I noticed his
Speaker 1: work laptop open on the sofa. There was a document
Speaker 1: entitled several short Stands as clearly omitted to open to
Speaker 1: a poem. I didn't recognize first person, soft and longing.
Speaker 1: It closed with a line as his voice in the duck,
Speaker 1: half a city away. He'd never written poems from me,
Speaker 1: not for years. Somehow it felt like less than evidence,
Speaker 1: and yet more. That night I told myself to trust him,
Speaker 1: clinging to his assurances from months before. The only boundaries
Speaker 1: that matter are the ones you keep with your person.
Speaker 1: Hen I turned over the old and threatened faith I
Speaker 1: had that Mark always confided in me, true as the
Speaker 1: city's dawn. Instead, he came home, smelling of gin and unas,
Speaker 1: curling up beside me like nothing had shifted. He asked
Speaker 1: about my magazine with what sounded like real worry, but
Speaker 1: I couldn't answer fully. Two days later, while washing sheets,
Speaker 1: I found a small receipt tucked in his jean's pocket.
Speaker 1: The name at the top Lyndon Hotel roofed up two cocktails,
Speaker 1: two up Tizer's one dessert date matched the Friday had
Speaker 1: worked late and suggested take out, which Mark had declined.
Speaker 1: He'd claimed a late scene with Lucas. I kept the proof.
Speaker 1: I didn't confront him yet. I rationed my questions, letting
Speaker 1: his stories accumulate while I trapped the little holes, the
Speaker 1: gaps between what I knew and what I heard. That week,
Speaker 1: as the apartment brightened with spring flowers, I bought myself
Speaker 1: open windows, sunheading our Booksheff. I notice Mark becoming more attentive,
Speaker 1: almost cliny. He'd ask if I needed anything, text mememes
Speaker 1: from across the apartment, but every time I entered a room,
Speaker 1: his phone was turned over, his laptop screen already shifted
Speaker 1: to a blank tab. I counted every change like someone
Speaker 1: trying to measure rising water on the floor. Sunday breakfast
Speaker 1: now gone, Casual affection replaced by public overtures, loud jokes,
Speaker 1: over zealous hand holding, its social events. Every quiet moment
Speaker 1: between us now flickered with performance, and still no direct evidence.
Speaker 1: Nothing I could take to any one and confess I'm
Speaker 1: being left behind. When I finally mentioned mine's things feel off? Mark,
Speaker 1: are we just busy or something wrong? He dropped his
Speaker 1: pee and looked at me, eyes wide, so attentive. Nothing's wrong,
Speaker 1: just chaos far my anchor. You know that ride? He
Speaker 1: sounded genuine. Maybe he was. That night he suggested spontaneous.
Speaker 1: We can't get away. We left the city for a
Speaker 1: short drive up state. Two nights in a bed and
Speaker 1: breakfast chocolate corossues brought to the room the gentle pressure
Speaker 1: of old, familiar laughter. He tucked his feet into mine
Speaker 1: under the covers, read bad puns from the local paper,
Speaker 1: whispered pet naanes into my hair before sleep. By Monday,
Speaker 1: the apartment felt warmer, and Mark was a little more himself.
Speaker 1: Healinged over coffee. Remember to restock my favorite yogurt, even
Speaker 1: if me a new note world's best breakfast engineer in
Speaker 1: a fridge. I moved through our home lighter. My suspicions
Speaker 1: temporarily folded away. That week, a friend's birthday, I watched
Speaker 1: Mark tell story with such animated color about our third anniversary.
Speaker 1: A Cabby mishap bear that never existed did that. I
Speaker 1: nearly teared up. The punch line was ours alone. Sirena
Speaker 1: was there across the room, listening. She caught my eye,
Speaker 1: just for a second. There was a look on her face, distant, rehearsed,
Speaker 1: almost pitying. I tried to decode it, but she turned
Speaker 1: away before I could read more. When we returned home,
Speaker 1: Mark showered, guilt or something darker prodded me. I reached
Speaker 1: for his phone, feeling sick as I did a single text,
Speaker 1: recent and simple from Serena same time on Thursday. I
Speaker 1: stared until I heard water shut off, then set the
Speaker 1: phone down, ice running up my arms. The next morning,
Speaker 1: at work, I did nothing but replay our conversations, matching
Speaker 1: words to movements. Something was happening, but every time I
Speaker 1: reached for proof, all I had were half glimpse exchanges,
Speaker 1: overlapping denials. I made a decision. If I was going
Speaker 1: to ruin something, I do it untruef not on suspicion.
Speaker 1: That evening, when Mark claimed he'd be late again for
Speaker 1: editorial drinks, I took a different tack. I showed up
Speaker 1: at the bar he named, scanning booths and faces. He
Speaker 1: wasn't there. Serena's office was just four blocks away. I
Speaker 1: didn't go in, didn't need to. I waited in the
Speaker 1: coffee shop across the street, watching the door. Thirty minutes
Speaker 1: later through plate glass, in the flurry of post work movement,
Speaker 1: Mack and Serena merged together, laughing, no affection, nothing physical,
Speaker 1: but her hand lingered on his sleeve in a way that,
Speaker 1: after six years of reading Mark, I recognized as deliberate.
Speaker 1: I didn't confront him that night. He came home with
Speaker 1: takeout for one cheeks, pink from cold and wine, and
Speaker 1: I watched the way he loosened his tie, the way
Speaker 1: he asked about my day with the same performed of concern.
Speaker 1: I told him my week had been heavy. He pressed
Speaker 1: a kiss to my jaw. Distracted. That week end I
Speaker 1: attended and event Mark said he was skipping for editing. Hell.
Speaker 1: Our mutual friends were there, and nodjer Lucas Alex. I
Speaker 1: sidled up to Alex at the bar and certainty settling
Speaker 1: in my gut. Alex lean close voice, low, is he okay,
Speaker 1: he's been? I don't know. We're lately around Serena, not
Speaker 1: my place, but you ask so she looked away. He
Speaker 1: asked me to cover for him once, just said he
Speaker 1: needed space. Nothing dramatic. It was also slippery. No one
Speaker 1: wanted to implicate any one else. Yet that slipperiness, the
Speaker 1: holes and stories let me see the shape behind the curtain.
Speaker 1: When Mark left for a late work meeting on Thursday,
Speaker 1: I checked our shared bank account. I try out roses,
Speaker 1: delivered one a night. He told me he'd been in
Speaker 1: back to back calls with his editor. Another drinks to
Speaker 1: jazz bar known for its day night alone, both places
Speaker 1: I'd never visited with him, both assigned to evenings i'd
Speaker 1: spend alone. Wishing for a return of our vituals. I
Speaker 1: waited three days, then pulled out Mark's old notebook, the
Speaker 1: battered lea, the bound one he'd always hid him behind
Speaker 1: stacks of invises when he was occupied with the podcast.
Speaker 1: In the bath, I flipped through the pages. Some were blank,
Speaker 1: some filled with to do lists, but wedged between guests
Speaker 1: list and calumn ideas. Were poems, fragments really, some dated
Speaker 1: weekends when I'd been away. Each was inscribed with a
Speaker 1: single initial ass Sometimes the lines felled unfinished, scrolled out
Speaker 1: in a hurry, not meant for anyone but the person
Speaker 1: who'd read them. In a bar, or a dark hallway
Speaker 1: or a bus city noise. I set the notebook down
Speaker 1: and sat numb on our bed proof or something like it.
Speaker 1: Not yet confession, but enough to confirm what I've been
Speaker 1: circling for weeks. I kept up the performance at home. Mark,
Speaker 1: now more cautious and yet somehow more present, offered long
Speaker 1: hugs after dinner, sent text mid work dages. I saw
Speaker 1: a pigeon you of some assaut thought of you, and
Speaker 1: sometimes made coffee just the way I liked it. But
Speaker 1: he'd also begun suggesting he worked late or travel for
Speaker 1: brief meetings. Once A called Serena's magazine office under the
Speaker 1: pretense of pitching a story. In the background, Mark's voice
Speaker 1: drifted low and unmistakable. I exaled, pressed end on the call,
Speaker 1: and listened as the late sun carved up our apartment.
Speaker 1: I realized that everything I'd built was now suspect, every ritual,
Speaker 1: every inside jerke, every memory, muttered by what was left
Speaker 1: and said. The last stroll was a message from Alex
Speaker 1: you okay if you ever want to talk, or just sit.
Speaker 1: I'm here, simple, gentle, but enough to prove she knew
Speaker 1: more than she was willing to share. So I played
Speaker 1: it out, rehearsing what I might say, what I might ask.
Speaker 1: Who would I be if I let myself see the
Speaker 1: whole arc, the missing glass, the rescue of lipstick on
Speaker 1: a bottle. I never touched, the laugh that now belonged
Speaker 1: to someone else. I wasn't ready to speak, not yet.
Speaker 1: There was still room from Mark's next explanation for my
Speaker 1: hope that maybe there was announcewer I just hadn't understood.
Speaker 1: But the city sounded louder through our windows, and our home,
Speaker 1: once so tight and curated, began to echo. I measured
Speaker 1: the distance each night by how quickly he fell asleep.
Speaker 1: Something was breaking, but I was still waiting to know
Speaker 1: for sure, if it could be mended. That Friday, Mark
Speaker 1: was Holmary so early, in fact, that I nearly collided
Speaker 1: with him in the hallway, my own keys still out
Speaker 1: cut half off. He looked, startled and flushed, as if
Speaker 1: caught in a sudden draft. He smelled faintly of ginger,
Speaker 1: which I only registered because the scent felt for and
Speaker 1: sharp against the more familiar notes of detergent insidia. I
Speaker 1: wasn't expecting him. He texted hours ago that he was
Speaker 1: ducking into meetings till late. But here he was barefoot
Speaker 1: and balancing tea bags from a type place he knew.
Speaker 1: I liked surprise mission, he said, holding out a back
Speaker 1: as if the gesture would erase confusion. Counseled lust round
Speaker 1: of meetings, figured i'd rest spouse points instead, got a
Speaker 1: wild mixed hup. You're hungry, I was, and yet the
Speaker 1: hunger existed at an aught unreachable level, tangled with the
Speaker 1: twist of nerves. I felt just beneath my ribs. This
Speaker 1: is nice, I said, and meant it. But I watched
Speaker 1: him as he opened take of containers and consciously scanning
Speaker 1: for anything, his hand shaking. His eyes are shade tea
Speaker 1: Bryla top sat closed on the dining table, a feigned
Speaker 1: indentation on the couch, suggesting he hadn't been gone long.
Speaker 1: Crazy day, I asked, and wrapping shrimp rolls. He shrugged, yeah,
Speaker 1: but it's Friday. I wanted to do something normal. You
Speaker 1: okay with that? He shot me a quick glance, his
Speaker 1: smile fluttering at the edges. Of course, I said, let
Speaker 1: it go, I told myself, people surprise each other. Some
Speaker 1: days are just normal. We ate in the living room,
Speaker 1: plates bounced on knees, television, chattering about documentaries. Neither of
Speaker 1: us watched. Mark fiddled with his phone, checking nothing or
Speaker 1: maybe everything. Every so often he'd look like he wanted
Speaker 1: to say something, then swallow it with a mouthful of
Speaker 1: pad tie. I made small talk about an editorial I
Speaker 1: was rewriting for the third time. He played along, feigning
Speaker 1: average at my office's managerial cliches. It almost worked us,
Speaker 1: laughing about headline failure's sweet jelly sauce dripping. If I
Speaker 1: ignored everything beneath the surface, this could be any other night,
Speaker 1: but all evening. There was one moment I kept replaying
Speaker 1: a second when he reached from my hand, but made
Speaker 1: gesture seemed to distract himself with a message, his fingers
Speaker 1: curling protectively around his phone instead anyone fun, I asked,
Speaker 1: work fire, Sorry, Lucas is panicking about a deadline. His
Speaker 1: answer landed before I could see in notification. Eventually we
Speaker 1: drifted into parallel tasks, me reading him back on his laptop.
Speaker 1: I watched him type quickly back space, then return. His
Speaker 1: face was closed a little distant. I hated that my
Speaker 1: spent suspicion had revived itself just because of a text
Speaker 1: he didn't show me. Later, unable to sleep, I wandered
Speaker 1: past the office again, pausing to listen for the tap
Speaker 1: of keys. It was silent. His chair was empty. On
Speaker 1: the screen a browser to have flushed an article on
Speaker 1: the benefits of digital detoxes. Beside the keyboard was a
Speaker 1: slip of paper one of the note cards reduced early
Speaker 1: in our marriage for date ideas. The card was blank
Speaker 1: except for a single letter S. I put the card down,
Speaker 1: hot thudding, and forced myself to walk away. The next
Speaker 1: evening I planned to meet Nadge for a drink, but
Speaker 1: she canceled last minute. A Migraine formel. Alone, I wandered
Speaker 1: downtown Amos. Out of habit, I checked social media. There
Speaker 1: were fortos blurry candids of Mark at a bar malf
Speaker 1: wide mid story Armoran Lucas. In a corner of one.
Speaker 1: Just visible Overmarke's shoulder was Serena. Her hand wrested knew
Speaker 1: is on the table, not quite touching the caption by
Speaker 1: some one I barely knew reed Another class at Mark
Speaker 1: Knight penguin's stories out of control, I assumed, and until
Speaker 1: the pixels blurred, I reminded myself of all the time
Speaker 1: similar moments had meant nothing. Mock him home late, hummingtonlessly.
Speaker 1: How was girls night? I lied, and prepared to explain fine,
Speaker 1: mostly gossip. Tal was your knight? He tossed his coat
Speaker 1: on the chair, giddy. I think we're finally getting somewhere
Speaker 1: with the new columns. Serena brought this wild idea. Every
Speaker 1: one kept riffing. He trailed off, searching my face. Why
Speaker 1: what have you heard? Nothing, I said, letting his own
Speaker 1: reflection pass over me. We move mechanically through bedtime, brushed teeth,
Speaker 1: check clocks, set alarms. Lying side by side, he tried
Speaker 1: threading his feet through mine, beneath the comforter, waiting for
Speaker 1: a reaction. I let him, but sleep was as far
Speaker 1: away as truss By Sunday, spring was bushing green down
Speaker 1: the avenues, and I tried to find comfort and routine.
Speaker 1: But I kept catching lost details in the spaces between us.
Speaker 1: Mark scrolling through his pham, sometimes smiling at nothing. My
Speaker 1: own reflection in the window, distracted and less solid than
Speaker 1: I remembered being. I busied myself with plans, inviting friends
Speaker 1: for dinner, pitching new articles at work. I told myself
Speaker 1: that distraction was enough. The one thing I didn't you
Speaker 1: couldn't do, was talk to Mark plainy about what I felt.
Speaker 1: I rehearsed opening lines, I feel like I am losing
Speaker 1: the plot of us? Or did we get too comfortable? Instead?
Speaker 1: I watched and waited. There was a safety in passivity,
Speaker 1: one that required only vigilance, not risk, but vigilance, I
Speaker 1: was learning can be corrosive. A few nights later, I
Speaker 1: ended up near Mark's office during lunch. On an errand
Speaker 1: mostly but with an excuse, I texted across the street,
Speaker 1: feel like grabbing fifteen minutes of freedom. His reply came
Speaker 1: after a shore pause. Swamped another day. Standing there, I
Speaker 1: glimpsed Marked through the caffe window, laughing, leaning forward in conversation.
Speaker 1: Opposite him, sat Serena. They were close, not touching, not romantic,
Speaker 1: but closing, that way people can be when there's nobody
Speaker 1: else to impress or perform for. I watched them for
Speaker 1: a moment too long, then turned and left. Later, when
Speaker 1: he asked about my day, I said only it was
Speaker 1: quiet productive. The gap kept widening, like an old coat
Speaker 1: stretching at the seams that weakened. I ran into Lucas
Speaker 1: at a bakery completely by accident, the real kind, a
Speaker 1: bagel and iced coffee. Lying collision. Lucas was one of
Speaker 1: Mark's oldest friends, closer to a brother than a colleague.
Speaker 1: We lingered by the window, chewing on city trivia. Hey,
Speaker 1: we're question, and again my voice soft. Was there really
Speaker 1: a penguin thing at your party last month? Or am
Speaker 1: I just missing the joke? Lucas laughed, God, yeah, that
Speaker 1: was Serena's accident. Splittkin of Seltzer got it everywhere, started
Speaker 1: drawing penguins on napkins. Mark made it a thing because
Speaker 1: dramas is bread and butter, Serena's new te your scene.
Speaker 1: I tried to stay casual. Lucas grinned, but his eyes
Speaker 1: flickered for a split second with something unreadable. She's cool, smart,
Speaker 1: keeps Mark on his toes. Then, as if he realized
Speaker 1: he'd said too much, Lucas changed so, asking about my
Speaker 1: magazine's financial drama. We parted ways, but I replayed his
Speaker 1: hesitation the fractional pause before praise, without reading him or
Speaker 1: only reading my own fears into every word. That night,
Speaker 1: Mark was out, brainstormming again. I stayed home, comforted only
Speaker 1: by the presence of my phone in the city's muffled
Speaker 1: racket through the glass. An hour after he said he'd
Speaker 1: be leaving, I checked his location, something I'd never done before.
Speaker 1: The blue dot flickered at an address near Chelsea, not
Speaker 1: the Lower east Side bar he'd named. I set the
Speaker 1: phone down, ashamed and waited for his return. He came
Speaker 1: home hereedam, cheeks flushed, Sorry, ran late. Every one kept
Speaker 1: adding one more round. He'd have hated it. It was
Speaker 1: just endless debate. I nodded. Dinner heated in the microwave.
Speaker 1: We ate while the news muttered from the background. Mark
Speaker 1: was present, but jumpy, cracking open celts or after selts,
Speaker 1: or eyes flicking between me and the window, the television
Speaker 1: and his fallen I asked, is work eating you alive?
Speaker 1: Or is something else going on? He started feasibly. It's
Speaker 1: all just a lot, launch season, everything always at once.
Speaker 1: Do you want to cut back? I pressed softly. He
Speaker 1: shook his head. Are you asking me to quit my job? No?
Speaker 1: Just come home more. He looked at me, reo focus
Speaker 1: in his gaze for the first time in days. I
Speaker 1: want to, I do, he said, but it sounded like
Speaker 1: a closing argument, not a promise. We finished dinner in silence.
Speaker 1: He touched my hand once briefly, and the warm flingered
Speaker 1: only a moment. The next day I got a call
Speaker 1: from my editor promising a short reprieve. Our print run
Speaker 1: survived another quarter. No laos yet, I let myself celebrate
Speaker 1: a little testing mark and emoji parade and an invitation
Speaker 1: to dinner. He replied, Yes, drinks on me, big love,
Speaker 1: proud of you. That night he was his old self,
Speaker 1: a reservation in how favor at bistro, a handriton cud
Speaker 1: folded under my plate to surviving chaos and the woman
Speaker 1: with the best laugh in the city. He poured wine,
Speaker 1: toasted my name, made jokes with the waitstaff. I felt
Speaker 1: the tension twist just a little as we walked home,
Speaker 1: arm in arm, swaying to some tune. He hummed, am
Speaker 1: my ear. But as we rounded the corner by the florist,
Speaker 1: I noticed Mark hesitate, eyes tracking the window display you
Speaker 1: I forget the feeling. He said softly that some memories
Speaker 1: are like flowers. You enjoy them, then find out they
Speaker 1: were meant for some one else. The phrase felt off
Speaker 1: Kelter rehearsed, I shiverously done my back. Or maybe I'm
Speaker 1: just drunk, he added, laughing tightly. I decided then to
Speaker 1: untangle what I could. Over the next week, I started
Speaker 1: quietly assembling details, dates, stories, receipts, texts. I visited Serena's Instagram,
Speaker 1: scolling to see if the book photo was still there.
Speaker 1: It was only now commented on by Lucas and another
Speaker 1: colleague of Marks, both making inside jokes about the best chapters.
Speaker 1: I reread the caption medical in its vagueness late nights
Speaker 1: equals best nights. Feeling like a spy in my own marriage,
Speaker 1: I pulled up Babanca Canto my laptop, studying through the
Speaker 1: list for anything that stood out there. Trillium Florals was
Speaker 1: twenty first. Another Thursday, I searched my memory when had
Speaker 1: I lost received flowers months ago? Surely I checked the
Speaker 1: online order receipt against Mark's calendars and found it matched
Speaker 1: an urgent deadline night. I wished for an answer other
Speaker 1: than the obvious compulsion overtook me. I clicked open. I
Speaker 1: shared music playlist, a roundabout way to feel closer to
Speaker 1: Mark in Mix were working. A new list appeared, one
Speaker 1: I hadn't seen for us, but not The thumb Nail
Speaker 1: was a sidescape. At dusk, I tap play jazz melancholic,
Speaker 1: not quite Mark's style, but still familiar. Song titles ran
Speaker 1: together midnight at Grammercy, His stolen minutes a closer still,
Speaker 1: each one a fraze Mack had whispered to me once
Speaker 1: years ago. One track can interlude, just gentle Piano stood out.
Speaker 1: I searched the title, curious it was by a band
Speaker 1: I'd recommended to Mark, but the playlist's creation DAYE was recent,
Speaker 1: and the hot symbol next to it sat added by Serena.
Speaker 1: My hand tingled as I closed a window. Sunday came
Speaker 1: clear and bright, and Mark suggested we go out for
Speaker 1: brunch of just us, no We're fancy. We sat in
Speaker 1: the sunlit cafe, dunking bread into eggs. He was at
Speaker 1: ease in a way that had become rare. We talked
Speaker 1: about our first apartment, about the designed failings of our
Speaker 1: unreliable dishwasher, all the small things. Couples were a visit
Speaker 1: to remember who they once were. After we finish, as
Speaker 1: we walked back, he squeezed my hand. I love you,
Speaker 1: h he said, real and low. I searched his face
Speaker 1: for anything, remorse, worry, happiness. How much could love coexist
Speaker 1: with duplicity? I nodded, leaning into his side, borrowing comfort
Speaker 1: against my better judgment, but comfort captiveflating. That afternoon I
Speaker 1: found his notebook again, this time a few loose pages
Speaker 1: toucked inside, shribbled over, words crossed out, but one phrase circled.
Speaker 1: I see her seeing me finally, Mark's handwriting unmistakable. Later
Speaker 1: that evening, I sat alone in the living room. The
Speaker 1: city's dusk lay full and in sheets across the wood.
Speaker 1: I called my sister, aiming for ordinary. We talked about work,
Speaker 1: about my niece's obsession with dinosaurs, about a recipe for
Speaker 1: lemon chicken. I didn't mention Mark, or Serena, or the
Speaker 1: ever widening hole in my chest. Sometimes silence is easier
Speaker 1: than the sound of breaking. Mark texted from the next room.
Speaker 1: YE want dessert, I can run out, I almost said, no,
Speaker 1: resenting how quickly he offered sweetness now, as if to
Speaker 1: bury the taste of something sour. Sure, I replied. Instead,
Speaker 1: he brought back gel otto, two flavors, spooned into one
Speaker 1: cup up. We sat side by side, the city humming,
Speaker 1: beloss TV flickering. Something in the rhythm of the spoons
Speaker 1: there accidental clicks that burrowed intimacy, felt like a script
Speaker 1: written for strangers. Two nights later, I got an e
Speaker 1: mail from a mutual friend. Ben's subject line, double birthday Thursday,
Speaker 1: Bring Mark. The body was a blur of whale wishes
Speaker 1: and venue details. My RSVP was almost instant. Will be
Speaker 1: there the night of the party, Mark announce at dinner,
Speaker 1: Count buried in edits rain check. I gave him a
Speaker 1: long look. Ben will be disappointed. He tilted his head
Speaker 1: as if doing the math, then nodded, I'll try to
Speaker 1: pop by for a drink. No promises. He kissed my forehead,
Speaker 1: leaving a trace of something I couldn't name. I went alone,
Speaker 1: arriving early and scanning the card for any familiar face,
Speaker 1: especially Serena's. She wasn't there near ten. As the energy built,
Speaker 1: excused myself to the bathroom in the hallway. Just as
Speaker 1: I rounded a corner, I heard snippets of conversation lucas
Speaker 1: clear as ever, laughing. You finally got Mark out of
Speaker 1: that hotel. Bar loop. The reply softer Serena's voice. He
Speaker 1: needed a reminder. Some habits are hard to break. I waited,
Speaker 1: hidden behind the edge of the door. Let and chase.
Speaker 1: What have a story he wants? I am just tired
Speaker 1: of being the one in the footnotes, Serena said. After
Speaker 1: something congealed in my throat, I exited quickly, cheeks burning.
Speaker 1: When I arrived home, while past midnight, Mark was asleep.
Speaker 1: An arm flung out across my half of the bed.
Speaker 1: His breathing was deep and troubled. I watched him for
Speaker 1: a long time, wishing I could call into his dreams
Speaker 1: and shake him away inside them, force him to see
Speaker 1: me solid and whole, rather than a silhouette left at
Speaker 1: the edge of a photograph. After a while, I went
Speaker 1: to the kitchen. The peanot was still gone. The stumbless
Speaker 1: glass is still weeding. I pour tap water, cool and clean,
Speaker 1: and drank it down in a rush, pressing the empty
Speaker 1: glass hard to my forehea. The next day, I left
Speaker 1: work early, the excuse of light headache, getting me out
Speaker 1: to nowhere in particular. I ended up near Serena's office.
Speaker 1: They urged to see the geography of her world. Overpowering logic.
Speaker 1: I wondered aimlessly, expecting nothing, hoping to stumble on what
Speaker 1: the em hand in hand sheared laughter through a window
Speaker 1: were just proof that the narrative I'd spun was fiction.
Speaker 1: It started raining, just hard enough to feel biblical. I
Speaker 1: ducked into a coffee shop to dry off, staring through
Speaker 1: the glass miry yards from the entrance to Serena's building,
Speaker 1: city people surged by umbrellas, bright coats, cows, honking and swerving,
Speaker 1: the habitual drama of a thousand anonymous lives. I tried
Speaker 1: to well mock into existence, and as if summoned there,
Speaker 1: he was not with Serena, but alone, jogging out of
Speaker 1: her building, phone press tied to his ear, head down.
Speaker 1: He paused just outside the awning glancing at his phone.
Speaker 1: Lips move in. I couldn't hear the words over the rain.
Speaker 1: Some one brushed by him, a delivery guy maybe, or
Speaker 1: just a commuter, and Mark stepped aside, looking nervous watching him,
Speaker 1: I felt profoundly outside. He walked off, shoulders hunched. I
Speaker 1: left the coffee shop after my hands had stopped trembling.
Speaker 1: That night, Mark cooked dinner, something elaborate, a balsonic glaze,
Speaker 1: some worasted fish. Hugh des a retreat, he said, waving
Speaker 1: away my tempt to help. The meal was delicious and
Speaker 1: estout a dish from our third year together. It should
Speaker 1: have felt comforting, but the effort now seen Domoso castroll
Speaker 1: every element designed for maximum effect. Did I do something?
Speaker 1: I finally asked over dessert. He paused mid bite. Now
Speaker 1: why you've been present kind more than usual? Did something happen?
Speaker 1: He smiled, false warmth glinting. I just wanted to remind
Speaker 1: you I'm on your team. That's all. Some weeks everything
Speaker 1: feels bent. I like us. I want to keep locking us.
Speaker 1: My eyes stump me too, I whispered, not sure which
Speaker 1: part of me was speaking. After dinner, he pulled me
Speaker 1: close and we danced in the small kitchen. No music needed,
Speaker 1: just the rhythm of our feet on all tile. For
Speaker 1: a few minutes. I closed my eyes and let myself
Speaker 1: believe nothing had changed. But when I pulled away, his
Speaker 1: face was shadowed by his thoughts. The following morning, I
Speaker 1: woke alone, Mark was already gone his side of the bed.
Speaker 1: Cole on the kitchen counter, a single rose lay with
Speaker 1: a note free Friday keep breathing. The handwriting was firm,
Speaker 1: but the lines were softer than Mark's normal hurried scroll.
Speaker 1: It felt like an apology or benediction, or both. Work
Speaker 1: blurred by some days weeping into others, the lines of
Speaker 1: what counted as evidence dissolving and fatigue. I came home
Speaker 1: one evening to Mark and Serena sitting together in a
Speaker 1: building entrance, huddled over a shared tablet. A froze, keys
Speaker 1: grouped so tightly my palms ached. They laughed. A half
Speaker 1: whispered conspiratorial spilled out into the lobby. As I passed.
Speaker 1: Serena's eyes flicked up, meeting mine for a millisecond before
Speaker 1: darting away. Mark, for his part, barely seemed to register
Speaker 1: my prisons, so absorbed in their conversation. Only as unlocked
Speaker 1: our dough did he look up, calling, I'll be right
Speaker 1: in han gott to finish the Senate. His force was
Speaker 1: too loud for the space. I set down my bag, hot,
Speaker 1: knocking in my chest, anger, mingling with shame. When he
Speaker 1: came up, he was all apology, sorry. Serena caught me
Speaker 1: on my way in emergency editing. You know how it
Speaker 1: is totally, I replied, my voice turning brittle with self protection.
Speaker 1: We barely spoke the rest of the night, both for
Speaker 1: retreating to screens and silence. Another day, I confronted Nadia,
Speaker 1: pressing a little harder, y' serena okay? I saw her
Speaker 1: with Mark looked intense. Noda hesitated, picking at the sleeve
Speaker 1: of her sweater. She's complicated again, the little in love
Speaker 1: with her work may be too familiar with drama. I
Speaker 1: try not to get in the middle of things. She
Speaker 1: looked away, obviously uncomfortable. Is everything okay with you and Mark?
Speaker 1: I wanted to say no, but instead I said, of course,
Speaker 1: just curious. Naugy silent waited ton in the privacy of
Speaker 1: our bathroom. That night, I looked at myself in the mirror,
Speaker 1: seeing fatigue etched in my eyes, the beginnings of a
Speaker 1: tightness at the corners of my mouth. I pressed cold
Speaker 1: water to my face, breathing against the panic that threatened
Speaker 1: to rise. The city persisted outside, lights, blinking, strangers arguing,
Speaker 1: late night deliveries rumbling by. I felt as if idhrunk
Speaker 1: into a series of motion, sleep, work, dinner, distraction, my
Speaker 1: own life happening somewhat just out of view. The next
Speaker 1: Thurs date. The text from Serena buzzed again on Mark's phone,
Speaker 1: this time clearer, her name directly at the top. As
Speaker 1: he left his phone on the kitchen counter before a shower.
Speaker 1: To night eight zero can be late. Looking forward to it,
Speaker 1: I stood motionless, staring there. Seemed to hold an extra weight.
Speaker 1: A year ago I would have confronted him, a direct,
Speaker 1: stubborn wounded to night. All I did was put the
Speaker 1: phone back with a trembling hand and walked to the
Speaker 1: window where the city trample between rain and steam and neon.
Speaker 1: I understood now, with a certainty that was almost physical,
Speaker 1: that trust wasn't just broken. It had become irrelevant. But
Speaker 1: I needed to hear it, to see it, to feel
Speaker 1: the shape of his lies in his own words, not
Speaker 1: just mine. And so I waited. I built my case.
Speaker 1: I let the missing glass remain missing, gathering absence like evidence.
Speaker 1: I was ready for the end, even if I didn't
Speaker 1: know how to want it. At the window, the city's
Speaker 1: whither kept shifting, a few last drops of rain streaking
Speaker 1: down the glass, late sunlight catching on puddles as cowt
Speaker 1: pushed through the dusk. My hand was still trembling when
Speaker 1: mak padded into the kitchen, hair wet, tugging a sweater
Speaker 1: into place. I could hear the muffled rattle of his
Speaker 1: phone where I'd set it back on the counter, face down,
Speaker 1: serene as Miss is probably still visible if you turned
Speaker 1: it at the right angle. He didn't notice the silence
Speaker 1: at first, or maybe he did and chose not to care.
Speaker 1: Should we order food or are you in the mood
Speaker 1: to cook? I kept my back to him, tracing a
Speaker 1: circle on the coal glass. Let's just order something easy,
Speaker 1: he seemed relieved. Order tie again, almost an autopilot. While
Speaker 1: he waited, he fiddled with the bluetooth speaker, started to
Speaker 1: tell a story about Lucas's latest smelldown at work, something
Speaker 1: about Miss style guide's and macco polo jokes. I nodded
Speaker 1: when I needed to, letting his words wash over me
Speaker 1: like static. We ate not quite together. Plait balanced on knees.
Speaker 1: Every now and then his hand would reach for something,
Speaker 1: a fork, an afkin, the remote, and come to rest, awkward,
Speaker 1: as if he half expected me to ask something. By
Speaker 1: the time the news shifted from local traffic to feel
Speaker 1: good pet rescue, I couldn't remember if I told him
Speaker 1: a single true thing all evening. I found myself hours later,
Speaker 1: lying awake while he snorted softly beside me, thinking over
Speaker 1: every dumb detail that used to feel safe. The weight
Speaker 1: of that last ordinary Thursday refused to lift. I realized
Speaker 1: that was catalogging the sound of Serena's name in his mouth,
Speaker 1: Mark's refix to reach for his foreign mid laugh. Small
Speaker 1: jokes were told to people who would not me. I
Speaker 1: counted each with a kind of mild terror. I wondered
Speaker 1: how long I go on waiting for him to trip
Speaker 1: over a lie. At work the next day, I was useless.
Speaker 1: I kept checking my phone, half expecting something, a confession, apology,
Speaker 1: Serena's message to vanish on its own. Instead, Mark texted
Speaker 1: a mean acutcheon dog with its head stuck in a
Speaker 1: recycling bin. Reminded me of you, brilliance and chaos. The
Speaker 1: caption said, I didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
Speaker 1: I replied with a smiley face and closed my laptop early,
Speaker 1: sighting a last minute dental appointment. On the walk home,
Speaker 1: the city felt too crowded, every sound squashing my thoughts.
Speaker 1: I tried to go through the commute plastered to the
Speaker 1: wall of the Sawika, feeling like every face was a
Speaker 1: mirror of my own suspicion. Evening, I made it to
Speaker 1: our door without planning what had say or even what
Speaker 1: I wanted to happen. Mark was there, humming off key
Speaker 1: at the kitchen counter, assembling two small balls of delivery ramen.
Speaker 1: The TV was already tuned to something loud and forgettable.
Speaker 1: I could tell by the little stock of post it
Speaker 1: notes by his elbow that he was running from something less.
Speaker 1: Half scribbled times blazes reminders for the next day. Hey,
Speaker 1: he called as I entered, voice bright. I hung up
Speaker 1: my coat in silence, sat heavily at the table. The
Speaker 1: bowls smelt bicy and rum. He looked up, finally, noticing
Speaker 1: long day. He tried. We need to talk, I said,
Speaker 1: He hesitated, then forced to joke, usually when people say
Speaker 1: that it's about rending increases or someone's pregnant. I didn't smile, Mark,
Speaker 1: I want you to listen. He looked away, jaw flexing,
Speaker 1: but still he sat. He waited. Let me speak for
Speaker 1: want on my schedule. I know, I said, voice thin
Speaker 1: about you and Serena. A long moment, somewhere outside our window,
Speaker 1: a siren dopplered into the distance. He tried for rhiness.
Speaker 1: No what that She's as bad at deadlines as I am.
Speaker 1: I shook my head, feeling and not rise in my chest.
Speaker 1: But don't. I'm not here to argue details, the nights,
Speaker 1: the hotel bars, the flowers, the book he signed for her,
Speaker 1: of the poems. Something flickered across his face, a flash
Speaker 1: of annoyance, gone just as quickly. There's nothing you could do, mock.
Speaker 1: My voice was sharp and familiar. I've seen enough. I
Speaker 1: know about the Thursdays, the messages. Naught yet, Lucas, even Alex,
Speaker 1: they all know something. You can keep lying, but at
Speaker 1: this point it's just me watching you try not to
Speaker 1: say what's true. That's not fair, He started, but faded.
Speaker 1: His hands gripped the edge of the counter, knuckles white.
Speaker 1: She's more than a friend. Just say it. He stared
Speaker 1: at the fig wood of the table, jaw shuddering serena.
Speaker 1: His words failed him. When he looked up, it was
Speaker 1: as if he'd aged ten years in a minute. Christ Hannah,
Speaker 1: I didn't plan any of it. It just happened. We connected,
Speaker 1: It got messy. I thought I could keep work in
Speaker 1: life separate, but dear, but you didn't. I said, you
Speaker 1: didn't even try. He raised both palms, pleading. I tried.
Speaker 1: I did. At first, I swear and started with drinks
Speaker 1: and talking about work, and then the lines blowed and
Speaker 1: I kept thinking it would just be something I could control.
Speaker 1: But every time I talked to her, I felt, I
Speaker 1: don't know, like being seen finally in focus. I let
Speaker 1: that roll over me, heavy and nauseating and me. He
Speaker 1: shut his eyes. You were always steady, always there, always
Speaker 1: cleaning up my edges. But with everything changing at your job,
Speaker 1: it started feeling like I was just the background to
Speaker 1: your crisis. Serena, let me forget who I was for
Speaker 1: a while. I know that's not fair. I know that's
Speaker 1: not right. I bit my tongue so hard I tasted ian.
Speaker 1: You could have told me. You could have told me
Speaker 1: instead of letting me chase my own tail for months.
Speaker 1: He shook his head, eyes reddening. I didn't want to
Speaker 1: lose you, I thought. I kept hoping I'd figure it
Speaker 1: out before you noticed. I wanted to stop. I barked
Speaker 1: a short, ugly laugh. He didn't stop. Now he did cry,
Speaker 1: not the sovereign of the century kind, but real tears.
Speaker 1: Stubbornly wiped away, face red and raw. He never even
Speaker 1: apologized for the wine, for the rituals, all the small
Speaker 1: things you took away. He choked on his own words.
Speaker 1: Every time I try, I thought, if I performed normal
Speaker 1: well enough, it'll come back. We'll come back. I fucking
Speaker 1: hate myself for this. I do, hann, I really do.
Speaker 1: But he kept choosing it. I said every week, he sagged,
Speaker 1: it's not her, it's not you, not really. I just
Speaker 1: felt like a ghost in my own life, and she
Speaker 1: gave me color again. That's all it was. I'm sorry.
Speaker 1: I pushed back my chair, new steadiness planted in my core.
Speaker 1: We're done, Mark. I don't care about grand gestures or reasons.
Speaker 1: If I needed the truth, I know it now, That's all,
Speaker 1: he nodded. I was pinched tight and didn't try to
Speaker 1: reach for me. The gulf between us grew wider than
Speaker 1: even clumsy apologies could bridge. For a moment, I just
Speaker 1: stood there, steadying myself on the edge of the table.
Speaker 1: The exhaustion I had carried for weeks finally found relief
Speaker 1: in its own clarity. Mark shoudered out of breath. I'll
Speaker 1: get my things, he whispered, I turned away, not trusting
Speaker 1: myself to say anything else that wouldn't shatter us both.
Speaker 1: He spent the night on the couch, called into himself,
Speaker 1: a small mountain of blankets pulled up over his face.
Speaker 1: I lay awake in the hollow of our bed. Every
Speaker 1: sound amplified, the hum of a refrigerator at a traffic below,
Speaker 1: a siren too near the window. I let a solitary,
Speaker 1: biting windslip and under the curtain, chilling my feet. But
Speaker 1: I didn't move. I couldn't. Morning arrived with cruel precision.
Speaker 1: Mark rose earily, shoulders bent, I swollen. He avoided my
Speaker 1: gaze as he shuffled through the closet, stuffing his stuffle
Speaker 1: with whatever clothes came to hand, stacks of t shirts,
Speaker 1: a raincoat, shoes, unpaired. He sniff occasionally, but if he
Speaker 1: cried again, he did it in silence. I make coffee,
Speaker 1: two mugs out of habit. When he noticed, he hesitated,
Speaker 1: mouth opening for goodbye. He couldn't speak, then looked away.
Speaker 1: In the uncomfortable choreography, we defaulted to logistics. What shall
Speaker 1: we say to everyone? He asked, voice tired and low.
Speaker 1: Our message nudge and lucas I said, you message Alex.
Speaker 1: Tell them we're taking a break. That's all. He nodded, quickly,
Speaker 1: Grateful for something simple, He tixed it as he packed,
Speaker 1: thumbs flying over the glass. What about the rent, he asks,
Speaker 1: not looking up from his phone. I'll stay here, you
Speaker 1: take the sublet. I'll venmo you what I owe for me.
Speaker 1: It came up, measured calm. He zipped his bag, looked
Speaker 1: around as if searching for proof he'd actually lived here,
Speaker 1: that this was real and not simulation. Do you want
Speaker 1: the Recro's collection, he asked, glancing at the shelf above
Speaker 1: the TV. You take it, I replied, I can't listen
Speaker 1: to half of those songs any more. His lip trembled
Speaker 1: and he pressed his lips together, eyes darting away. We
Speaker 1: didn't hug. There was nowhere left for comfort to go.
Speaker 1: He stopped at the door, swiping the back of his
Speaker 1: wrist over his nose. I am sorry, Hannah, more sorry
Speaker 1: than I know how to say. I nodded, holding my
Speaker 1: mug like an anchor. Goodbye, Mark. He stood in the hallway,
Speaker 1: shoulders slap wanped, then disappeared down the stairs, bag bumping
Speaker 1: behind him. I heard the front doorban a dull final note.
Speaker 1: I watched the clock for five, maybe ten minutes, listening
Speaker 1: for footsteps that never returned. The apartment was too quiet,
Speaker 1: brighter than it had any right to be, Sunlights lanting
Speaker 1: across the scoff floorboards, catching motes of dust and forgotten receipts.
Speaker 1: I took my phone, messaged my sister, don't call, I
Speaker 1: just need a break. We'll tax soon. Then I counseled
Speaker 1: plans with friends for the week, sent simple apologies, no
Speaker 1: other explanations. The home that had felt curated, our careful
Speaker 1: product now looked ranzat closets, gaping half made bed and
Speaker 1: mug swatting on the kitchen counter with no second one
Speaker 1: beside it. I gathered laundry he'd left behind, dumped it
Speaker 1: in a basket, and stared at the row of shirts
Speaker 1: that still smell vaguely of him. I closed the closet,
Speaker 1: standing there for alarm slacked, jawed minute, until the vibration
Speaker 1: of my phone jowed me out of it. A group
Speaker 1: texts lighting up, of concerned question marks and digital care
Speaker 1: I ignored them all. I put my hand on the
Speaker 1: kitchen counter and steadied myself for owing breath, not for Marco,
Speaker 1: for any one else, but for the stunned. Bracing the
Speaker 1: empty space that waited at my back, I busied myself
Speaker 1: with nothing, wiping counter as that didn't need it, refording towels,
Speaker 1: scraping a thin film of dust from window sills. I
Speaker 1: watched the light shift this afternoon, pressed onward, the city below,
Speaker 1: moving at its own indifferent pace. When my sister texted again,
Speaker 1: this time only a hard emoji, I replied, with them,
Speaker 1: all right, really she would know that men just for now,
Speaker 1: don't bush. I couldn't speak to any one, not yet.
Speaker 1: I found myself pacing from room to room, straightening objects,
Speaker 1: then messing them up again. I tried a playlists, but
Speaker 1: every track was a mindfield. No one saw that didn't
Speaker 1: carry some memory. In the bedroom, Mark's pillow waited indented,
Speaker 1: but even that felt more like an overlooked object than
Speaker 1: a relic. I fluffed it anyway, then set it at
Speaker 1: the foot of the bed and walked away. My thoughts
Speaker 1: spun for a while, simple logistics rising to take the
Speaker 1: edge off dread, canceled, joint accounts, forward mail. Remember to
Speaker 1: water the plant in the living room, A gifted monster
Speaker 1: that had refused to die even as everything else seemed
Speaker 1: to wilt. I left the plan in the sun, ran
Speaker 1: my finger along one rubbery leaf, and thought, bizarrely of nothing.
Speaker 1: The day slid forward. I took a shower, dressed in
Speaker 1: old jeans, ordered a sandwich, and barely touched it. I
Speaker 1: kept resisting the urge to caltex follow up. Even piccafy
Speaker 1: anger had retreated, leaving behind only a low ache, like
Speaker 1: a pole muscle that made every gesture smaller. As des
Speaker 1: pressed at a windows, I realized how sharply the apartment
Speaker 1: had changed. Without Mark's constance, sound, the playliss or laugh,
Speaker 1: the clatter of keys, the space was less tense, but
Speaker 1: all so desperately and forgivably open. I faced the living room.
Speaker 1: Our liquor was gone, his books had vanished, along with
Speaker 1: his old's watch and the mug we'd argued of our
Speaker 1: vacation in Lisbon. There was nothing to divide now except
Speaker 1: aaron sunlay. I straightened up, wiped my mouth, poured a
Speaker 1: glass of water, and sat by the window, city lights
Speaker 1: flickering awake across the sky line. I didn't wait for
Speaker 1: his return. There was nothing left for me to wait.
Speaker 1: For a few hours after sunset, I opened the kitchen
Speaker 1: cabinet and stared at the shelf where the missing pener
Speaker 1: had always sat. The rest of the bottles were untouched,
Speaker 1: as if daring me to try again. With careful hands,
Speaker 1: uncorked a new bottle, more pedestrian than our special reserve,
Speaker 1: but it would do. The little pop echoed loud, as
Speaker 1: if sound itself was multiplied in Mark's absence. I pulled
Speaker 1: down one of our heavy stemless glasses, feeling its chilly
Speaker 1: solid weight, and poured a measure deliberate glass whole, the
Speaker 1: surface trembling as I steadied the bottle. Cradling the glass,
Speaker 1: I carried it to the small writing desk by the
Speaker 1: window and pulled open a fresh page of my batted
Speaker 1: old notebook, the one place left and touched by his
Speaker 1: handwriting or initials. I sat likes Cross City whirring below.
Speaker 1: I sip once twice. The tastes steadier than I expected.
Speaker 1: I set the glass down and cut my pen and
Speaker 1: rode a single on, compromising the line. What's left is
Speaker 1: only what I choose to pour. For a while, I
Speaker 1: waited for regret, or anger, or something more than this fragile,
Speaker 1: thin resolve. But what filled the room was simply presents
Speaker 1: and adorned, and mine alone. The stillness steadied me, but
Speaker 1: it didn't save me. I was collected in, muffled in
Speaker 1: Crimin's night, lengthened, city noises, shifting until only the sound
Speaker 1: of my own breath and the periodic shudder of the
Speaker 1: ancient radiator accompanied me. Something muscular in my chest loosen,
Speaker 1: stretched and refused to rotate in. I stared at the
Speaker 1: line I had written. What was left is only what
Speaker 1: I choosed to poor, feeling its obviousness, in its refusal
Speaker 1: to come me like a platitude. I didn't hear from Mark,
Speaker 1: not in the small hours, not when the morning pressed
Speaker 1: pale and sharp through the windows, not as the first
Speaker 1: messages began trickling in from friends who had pieced together
Speaker 1: enough fragrance to quietly panic. I left my pham, face
Speaker 1: down the bottle cord, but close hand. For once. I
Speaker 1: didn't fill the silence. No playlist, no news radio, no
Speaker 1: ritual call to my sister to nerate the loss. I
Speaker 1: simply let the air build round me and dared it
Speaker 1: to crush me flat. It didn't. I work, still aching
Speaker 1: and still alone, with a particular kind of headache that
Speaker 1: has less to do with alcohol and more to do
Speaker 1: with dehydration of spirit. A hollow as the city outside
Speaker 1: somehow seemed to amplify. The sheets tangled around my legs.
Speaker 1: I could almost imagine Mark's hand reaching across for mine,
Speaker 1: then remembered with bodily clarity that he was gone, really
Speaker 1: fully gone. The coffee brewed that morning tastes gorch, but
Speaker 1: I drank it anyway. I found myself sitting at the
Speaker 1: clotted desk, opening my email, but unable to string sentences together. Instead,
Speaker 1: I reopened the notebook, were reading my own simple scroll,
Speaker 1: then set about packing up the small remnants Mark had
Speaker 1: left behind a comb in the bathroom drawer, a faded
Speaker 1: Mets cap under the couch, a half empty tube of
Speaker 1: shaving cream with the faintest in print of his thumb
Speaker 1: on the side. The escalation began not with new heart break,
Speaker 1: but with the slow, persistent march of consequences. Friends pinged Lucas,
Speaker 1: cautious and neutral, offering drink suggest for company, not your
Speaker 1: risking a single brittle Here if you need, even Alex
Speaker 1: her loyalty always slightly more mine than Marks wrote, no pressure,
Speaker 1: But if you want to talk, I'm here no judgments. Ever,
Speaker 1: each message rattled something inside me. I wanted to answer
Speaker 1: them all with something light, yes, soon, but I couldn't
Speaker 1: quite manufacture the energy to play at normalcy. It was
Speaker 1: Saturday afternoon, in the rare lull between the freight of
Speaker 1: the week and whatever would pass for a new routine.
Speaker 1: When a knock came at the door. My body tensed,
Speaker 1: its petition mingling with memory. May be Mark, maybe a neighbor,
Speaker 1: maybe some misdelivered package. It was Nauga, awkward in her
Speaker 1: own skin, holding a paper bag of pastries with both hands.
Speaker 1: I come in peace, she said, voice soft. A part
Speaker 1: of me wanted to shut the door, preserviec a something private,
Speaker 1: but I stood aside, letting her enter into what remained
Speaker 1: of our apartment. We made tea, We ate apple turnovers
Speaker 1: in the slanting light, neither of us speaking at first.
Speaker 1: Nawdyr more than any one, neither shape of my silences.
Speaker 1: She was careful, not pressing for stories or tears, simply
Speaker 1: sitting as if holding a vigil ventully. She asked, do
Speaker 1: you want to talk about it? I considered lying, I
Speaker 1: considered confessing. Instead, I just said, he's gone. It was
Speaker 1: the only fact I could manage, Nadya nodded. I saw
Speaker 1: mack earlier. He looked a level Honestly, I don't know
Speaker 1: what happened, but you don't have to he cheated, I said,
Speaker 1: voice flat. I surprised myself at the boldness of the
Speaker 1: lack of shame, the refusal to soften the language for
Speaker 1: her comfort. Nod his lips compressed something moving behind her eyes.
Speaker 1: I'm so sorry, Hanne, I nodded. I meant it as
Speaker 1: a thank you, but it came out hollow. She reached
Speaker 1: for my hand, squeezed it, then let go before it
Speaker 1: could feel like pity. I know you don't want advice,
Speaker 1: Noddy sad after a long pause. But if you need anything,
Speaker 1: packing company some one to run into ference with the
Speaker 1: rest of it, I'll let you know, I said. My
Speaker 1: voice was sturdier now, as if naming the wound made
Speaker 1: at mine again, not something visited upon me by other
Speaker 1: people's mistakes. We talked about nothing for a few minutes,
Speaker 1: Cross's places, a furniture sale, gossip about some one's viral tweet.
Speaker 1: Her presence didn't heal anything, but it did nudge the
Speaker 1: apartment forward by a few millimeters. Led a crack of
Speaker 1: new air in. When she left, she squeezed my shoulder,
Speaker 1: but let me be that evening the city's dusk was
Speaker 1: longer than usual. I watched traffic press and received cab
Speaker 1: lights streaming through the avenue like lousembroidery. I answered none
Speaker 1: of the worry texts. I allowed myself the first full
Speaker 1: board decree since Mark's admission, a release that emptied me
Speaker 1: out without solace. Sunday was a blur of small rebalancings.
Speaker 1: I swept, mopped open windows, then shut them when the
Speaker 1: wind proved too cold. I stared down the calendar, crossing
Speaker 1: out anniversary dates that had previously haunted the coming weeks.
Speaker 1: I opened his left over bank statements, printing me passwords
Speaker 1: split in digital accounts. The mechanics steadied me more than
Speaker 1: any philosophy. There was a direction to each movement, an
Speaker 1: action that created something measurable. In the midst of this,
Speaker 1: a single email appear from Mark, the subject line rent
Speaker 1: plus apology. The contents were brief, direct, and almost painful
Speaker 1: in their ordinariness, suggested Venmo's split acknowledgment of a few
Speaker 1: items left behind, a line or two about again more
Speaker 1: sorry than I can say no big words, no last
Speaker 1: plea transactional ending to so many years of tangled love.
Speaker 1: I didn't reply, not yet. Monday were clawed back from
Speaker 1: my attention, deadlines piling in tandem with mounting emails from
Speaker 1: people who suspected but politely stopped short of asking. I said,
Speaker 1: taking personal time and let the phone ring until it
Speaker 1: fell silent. It was easier than pretending at cohesion. Late
Speaker 1: that night, another knock came, this one more hesitant, and
Speaker 1: when I opened the door, it was Alex. Neither of
Speaker 1: us spoke for a moment. Then she handed me an
Speaker 1: envelope inside her movie tickets to the Indie Mark and
Speaker 1: I have planned to see, and a note you owe
Speaker 1: yourself ILL come with or you can burn these if
Speaker 1: that feels better. She smiled tightly, in case you want
Speaker 1: to rewrite a memory. I managed to genuine laugh thin
Speaker 1: but sincere. Thank you you, Alex. Give me a week.
Speaker 1: Alex nodded, squeezed my upper arm the way she did
Speaker 1: years ago when we'd first met, Promising to stand at
Speaker 1: my shoulder. She didn't stay, understood my limits. Later, sitting
Speaker 1: with the envelope in my lap, I realized how much
Speaker 1: space I had reclaimed just by inviting someone close enough
Speaker 1: to care. The rest of the week passed in increments,
Speaker 1: meals cooked and half eaten. Carvet's vacuum tells laundered pass
Speaker 1: What was changed. I made newless spined old ones. I
Speaker 1: found myself occasionally reaching from Ark's laugh on the edge
Speaker 1: of a memory, sometimes feeling the urge to text him
Speaker 1: a jerk before remembering the cost. There was no cinematic collapse,
Speaker 1: no sudden rage boiling up the city in the apartment.
Speaker 1: Both simply carried on, unremarkable in their continuity. Then came
Speaker 1: an invitation to a friend's book launch mutual territory. I
Speaker 1: considered skipping, protecting myself from the eyes, the half knowing glances,
Speaker 1: the inevitable circles that would orbit Mark's absence. Instead, I dressed,
Speaker 1: simply pinned my hair back, painted on a mother bright color,
Speaker 1: and went. It was my first real test. The bar
Speaker 1: was crowded, chattered glasses, clinking to the same old jokes,
Speaker 1: Amon tired, ambitious riders. Lucas waved me over, giving nothing away.
Speaker 1: Nadia hugged me quietly. Monumental across the room. Serena was there,
Speaker 1: back to a wall flanked by gathering of colleagues. She
Speaker 1: looked tired, older, wary. Our eyes met once she nodded,
Speaker 1: a trace of apology ghosting across her face. I said nothing.
Speaker 1: No script existed for the exchange he might have had.
Speaker 1: People asked after Mark. I answered, he's out of town.
Speaker 1: And only once, when pressed were taking a break. The
Speaker 1: world didn't chatter, My chest didn't collapse. In fact, it
Speaker 1: felt almost easier to let absence marinate in the open air,
Speaker 1: a slow, heavy comfort polt in the realization that I
Speaker 1: would survive the room, and the next and the next.
Speaker 1: I ordered a glass of wine, toasted Not's reading and loft,
Speaker 1: a joke I barely understood. When the event went down,
Speaker 1: I left early stitches holding inside me. I did not
Speaker 1: check my phone for messages from marknot that I expected any.
Speaker 1: I walked slowly through the city, uprighton hall. Back in
Speaker 1: the apartment, in the hush that greeted my return, I
Speaker 1: felt the last streads of anxiety lusen. I poured second glass,
Speaker 1: opened the window to the night, and emptied the trash
Speaker 1: the last of Mark's takeout containers, and an old became
Speaker 1: now brittle and brown. The next morning, the finality struck,
Speaker 1: not as a wound, but as a fact. I logged
Speaker 1: into our Streamy account, deleted the Shaw playlists and shrub
Speaker 1: from his podcast recommendations. I ordered new sheets, changing the color,
Speaker 1: choosing something light, almost frivolous. I wrote two short notes,
Speaker 1: one to my landlord confirming the upcoming rent split, the
Speaker 1: other a tiny message to myself, pinned to the fridge.
Speaker 1: You are allowed to want more. A quick message from
Speaker 1: Moccasin to rent transfer. Good luck, hann I hope you
Speaker 1: find what you deserve, I replied, finally, simply received dick care,
Speaker 1: no signature, no flourish. When the last item of his
Speaker 1: abatted umbrella was left by the door, I packed it
Speaker 1: in a bag and walked it down to the lobby,
Speaker 1: leaving it in the charity box by the mail slots.
Speaker 1: I didn't want markers of his presence clinging to the walls.
Speaker 1: That night, the real automath silent and a moving I
Speaker 1: sat back down at my writing desk, no note book,
Speaker 1: just a pad of blank paper. For the first time
Speaker 1: in weeks, I rode a fresh line, not about endings
Speaker 1: or escape, but about what survived in what could be
Speaker 1: rebuilt by my own hand. I closed the window, pressed
Speaker 1: the glass to my lips and let the taste mark
Speaker 1: a new direction. Minutes later, the city's engine front in
Speaker 1: my bones, the living room lamp buzzed. I felt presence,
Speaker 1: not absence, the solvency of being enough in this room alone,
Speaker 1: which choices laid bare, And at last, content with the stillness,
Speaker 1: I pressed pen to page and poured only what was
Speaker 1: mine to keep. And that is the end. Thank you
Speaker 1: for listening, and I will see you in the next one.