Speaker 1: The first thing I noticed was the silence, the kind
Speaker 1: you only hear at midnight, high up in a building
Speaker 1: designed to tuck you away from everything below. Outside the glass,
Speaker 1: the city winked and glimmered, refracted in a hundred condo
Speaker 1: windows like a jewel box someone forgot to close inside,
Speaker 1: just the hum of the microwave rotating. Two day old.
Speaker 1: I takeout on the carousel, two plates out of habit,
Speaker 1: both chipped, both blue, one still as clean and useless
Speaker 1: as it had been last night. I set Amelia's side automatically,
Speaker 1: our ritual when her nights ran long, a passive, hopeful gesture.
Speaker 1: My phone vibrated on the counter, and I thund it
Speaker 1: open to a text from Max simple, almost teasing. Saw
Speaker 1: Amelia at Vesper, who was the guy with her? I
Speaker 1: must have stared longer than made sense Vesper. I glanced
Speaker 1: at the clock ten forty three. Amelia's text from Ella
Speaker 1: flashed in my brain, the usual breezy language, female artist,
Speaker 1: round table, late, don't wait up free, No mention of Vesper,
Speaker 1: no mention of a man. My first instinct was to laugh.
Speaker 1: Amelia attracting men at art events, hardly breaking news. Max
Speaker 1: always quick to misterad her networking for flirting. I shot back,
Speaker 1: She's got networking superpowers. I just tried to keep up.
Speaker 1: Added a shrug emoji for good measure. Micro We've beated
Speaker 1: Aye half my dinner, standing up, phone warming my palm,
Speaker 1: dirty fork in the sink, because why make more work?
Speaker 1: But as I rinsed the plate, a seat of doubt
Speaker 1: wriggled in. It didn't make sense for Amelia to avoid specifics.
Speaker 1: She loved letting me in on the latest gallery inside jerk,
Speaker 1: the petty hostilities, the wild stories she named names always.
Speaker 1: Maybe I just forgot her schedules, a pinball, new openings,
Speaker 1: last minute invites, pop up panels I pictured how flashing
Speaker 1: a confident smile as someone posing beneath those brutal halogen
Speaker 1: lights at vesper wine in hand. Maybe I was the
Speaker 1: only one counting days between dinners. I set her plate
Speaker 1: down for the second time. It felt heavier than mine.
Speaker 1: If nothing's wrong, why am I standing here feeling like
Speaker 1: I just missed something important? Probably nothing, I told myself.
Speaker 1: I wiped down the counter, flicked off the lights, and
Speaker 1: washed our city blow under glass. Amelia always said Truss
Speaker 1: was our secret weapon. Maybe all I needed was sleep.
Speaker 1: Before Amelia, I never thought about ought unless it was unascreen.
Speaker 1: Our first encounter, I was two beers in sweating through
Speaker 1: my only blazer ton tied in a pop up gallery
Speaker 1: on a damned street in the arts corridor. She just
Speaker 1: launched her own gallery, eden Lyne, the kind that seemed
Speaker 1: to instantly attract, impossibly call people in real collectors in
Speaker 1: equal measure. She wore ankle boots in this wild, oversized
Speaker 1: place of eyes, sharp and open, like she was always
Speaker 1: looking for the next surprise. I was hustling to convince
Speaker 1: a local co working start up to let me manage
Speaker 1: their new space. I remember her laughing at my first
Speaker 1: attempt at small talk, then spiraling me into a real
Speaker 1: conversation without missing a beat. I loved how little she
Speaker 1: seemed to need my approval. Eight years later, and here
Speaker 1: we are, top floor high above the same streets, taste
Speaker 1: mingling in ocondo. Her collection painting's too weird for akia,
Speaker 1: little sculptures, framed artist proofs, my gadgets, stacked books, a
Speaker 1: smart sistant in every corner. We blended into each other's worlds.
Speaker 1: She teased my structured morning. I jokingly mocked her late
Speaker 1: night enlightenment syndrome. Most days we met in the middle
Speaker 1: coffee on the balcony, talking through the steam, our feet
Speaker 1: on the same crack tile. Weekends we worked to brunch
Speaker 1: with the creative crowd. Sometimes we did gallery hops, arm
Speaker 1: in arm insiders and outsiders. In turn, there was a
Speaker 1: kind of safeness to our chaos. We promised radical honesty,
Speaker 1: even when it meant disagreeing about money or taking time
Speaker 1: for ourselves. Truthfully, I admired a call the way she
Speaker 1: faced gossip, pushy client's business, risks head on barely blinking.
Speaker 1: Sometimes they catch myself wondering how she may chaos look
Speaker 1: so easy. People asked if we missed the usual Mileson's
Speaker 1: marriage with kids, pets crowing up. The answer was always
Speaker 1: a mutual no. Careers first, each other, close second, the
Speaker 1: world wide open. Sometimes though the space between us felt
Speaker 1: too wide. Her star rising in the art world, ride ups,
Speaker 1: solo shows, evenings, though wasn't quite invited. My job was steady,
Speaker 1: but slow, managing the day to day drama freelancers, product launches,
Speaker 1: running a toadship at the co working space. She was
Speaker 1: always moving, always busy, always lately just out of reach.
Speaker 1: We laughed at the idea of rules, but there were
Speaker 1: rules under the surface. Don't mock people's dreams. Stand together
Speaker 1: at the hard exhibits, let each other be, but never
Speaker 1: be unseen. After Max's text, I told myself I was
Speaker 1: being crazy. Amelia have always pushed for healthy space, even
Speaker 1: celebrating it. I want us to be partners, not prisons,
Speaker 1: she'd say, head on my shoulder, eyes fixed on the city.
Speaker 1: But now with her missing plate and her shadow in
Speaker 1: another man's blurry anecdote, I wondered what lived inside that
Speaker 1: space we were so proud of. I never thought freedom
Speaker 1: could feel this lonely. I did what I always due
Speaker 1: when anxiety bite straight in the living room, queued up
Speaker 1: a loaf, my playlist and swered some half forgotten what
Speaker 1: e mails. Pretended not to check the hole, as if
Speaker 1: I might hear her key. Amelia didn't come home until
Speaker 1: well after one. I woke to the sun of her
Speaker 1: tossing her shoes in the closet, dropping clothes in the hamper,
Speaker 1: humming low under her breath. I rolled over her, half waking,
Speaker 1: and she slid into bed with a cold shoulder, guessing
Speaker 1: I thought that I was asleep late night. I mumbled,
Speaker 1: not expecting much. She whispered exhausted. Sorry, I hope I
Speaker 1: didn't wake you. That was all. I drifted off, blaming wine, work,
Speaker 1: city noise. In the morning, she was gone before my alarm.
Speaker 1: On Saturday, I found her in the living room, halfway
Speaker 1: through her second coffee, hair wild, hoody soft round her shoulders.
Speaker 1: I pulled myself the cup and sat beside her. Felt
Speaker 1: the buzz of her phone against her thigh. Big day,
Speaker 1: I tried. She smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes.
Speaker 1: Early drive to Silver Lake may be Echo Park. Honestly,
Speaker 1: this trip is a blur scouting for a couple new artists.
Speaker 1: I wasn't sure i'd heard her right, which one I asked?
Speaker 1: She hesitated, staring at the foam on her coffee, then
Speaker 1: New Gallery and Silver Lake. Thou wait, no, I mean
Speaker 1: Echo Park. Very last minute, I barely slept. It should
Speaker 1: have sounded normal. Her travel days were always a scramble,
Speaker 1: but the way she fumbled, like she had to check
Speaker 1: herself against the lis meemi itch. Was this the first
Speaker 1: time I'd noticed? She checked her phone again, thumb flicking,
Speaker 1: then set her face down, screen glowing silent. I washed
Speaker 1: her slip on her shoes, tot wish me luck. I
Speaker 1: might kill for a nap after this. Let me know
Speaker 1: if you want dinner later, I offer it, but she
Speaker 1: was already in the elevator. I stood there, coffee cooling
Speaker 1: in my hand, rehearsing reasons not to care. Amelia hated
Speaker 1: controlling questions. She'd always work late, posted fun pictures, come
Speaker 1: home when she damn well pleased. Wasn't that part of
Speaker 1: being equals jealousy to us was for other people? Still,
Speaker 1: I couldn't stop seeing the line between Silver Lake and
Speaker 1: Echo Park, the way she had to catch herself before
Speaker 1: she said one or the other. Did she even go?
Speaker 1: Was someone with her? I tried to let it go.
Speaker 1: I remembered an incident last year, a collector or so
Speaker 1: invasive we both blocked his number. Amelia's boundaries were an klad.
Speaker 1: Surely if something was up, she'd tell me. Maybe she
Speaker 1: wasn't hiding, just protecting her piece. That had to be it.
Speaker 1: For the rest of the day, I kept myself busy,
Speaker 1: met my team at the co working space, answered every
Speaker 1: one's complaints, set up a new printer, anti client calls.
Speaker 1: But every time my phone buzz some back part of me.
Speaker 1: Hoped it would be her giving details proving the story true.
Speaker 1: It wasn't. Sunday night. She came home, hair pulled back,
Speaker 1: shoes in her hand. She smelled like a familiar cologne,
Speaker 1: A sharp, expensive scent, something I expect from the imported
Speaker 1: candle section, not the woman I married. How was the
Speaker 1: gallery search, I asked, already feeling small for asking. She nodded, distracted,
Speaker 1: good productive. I reached toward her, fingers, brushing the scarf
Speaker 1: crossed over her shoulder. It was new burgundy, silk stained
Speaker 1: dark in one's bought a little too neatly, nodded, is
Speaker 1: this new? She shrugged, face a mask. Found it at
Speaker 1: the hotel. No idea where came from, may be left
Speaker 1: behind by an artist. She went straight to the shower,
Speaker 1: leaving her phone on the counter again, face down, silent,
Speaker 1: as if it belonged to some one else. I tried
Speaker 1: to laugh about it internally. How many times had we
Speaker 1: made fun of couples who acted like watch jokes? How
Speaker 1: often had merely called out paranoid boyfriends for policing messages?
Speaker 1: But now, for the first time, the urge to flip
Speaker 1: open her phone to check just once crept and slow
Speaker 1: and persistent. I did, and that week changes settled and
Speaker 1: like dust. Amelia had always kept strange hours, but lately
Speaker 1: the clockwork of a home shifted ways. I couldn't easily
Speaker 1: clock her. Text responses started coming late, punctuated with sorry
Speaker 1: client call or gallery manners. I see her at home
Speaker 1: only at odd ours, tiredness clinging to her even after
Speaker 1: a shower shadows under her eyes. I offered to pick
Speaker 1: her up some nights, I'll be in the area at
Speaker 1: but she'd wave it off. Plus ones aren't really encouraged,
Speaker 1: crowded enough, ye know, I'll ride share. Once, while idling
Speaker 1: in bed, she came in night wearing a dark, cursed
Speaker 1: looking design or dress I'd never seen before, clean tailored
Speaker 1: contrast to her usual collection of statement pieces. I admired it,
Speaker 1: tracing the zipper at her back as she changed near
Speaker 1: I asked. She smirked, dismissive, gifted by a client. I
Speaker 1: swear if I were everything, people gave me a die
Speaker 1: of excess, a small shift, but I shalled that, ashamed
Speaker 1: to admit to myself how much stock I put in
Speaker 1: little changes. Amelia was field in more events, gallery open houses,
Speaker 1: collect her dinners industry panels. She insisted these were pressure
Speaker 1: good nights required to keep her place in the scene.
Speaker 1: Trust me, you're better off at home. If I have
Speaker 1: to hear another consultant journal about value but square foote,
Speaker 1: I might scream. I tried not to call too often,
Speaker 1: didn't want to be the jealous husband. Still, a few
Speaker 1: times I'd text while she was out everything okay, No
Speaker 1: answer for an hour or more, then inevitably a clipped message,
Speaker 1: sorry laden here left on the way, love you. Friday,
Speaker 1: as I was going for loes on our share toccount,
Speaker 1: just making sure rent cleared and bills were covered, I
Speaker 1: caught a notification a sizable withdrawal, more than she'd usually
Speaker 1: spent on supplies, marked a VS. Consulting, not a familiar vendor.
Speaker 1: I texted her, what's the A VS. Consulting payment needed
Speaker 1: for the budget? Immediate response, Oh, the art shipment for
Speaker 1: Alona's Peace insurance required certified handle up, pricey, but had
Speaker 1: to do it all legit. Sorry for the hit, but
Speaker 1: then she moved on without more detail. Later, over dinner,
Speaker 1: I tried again, how does a VS. Consulting work? You
Speaker 1: always use ship easy? She busied herself pouring wine, sidestepped
Speaker 1: this was unusual. Alone's new collector was panicky, wanted top tier,
Speaker 1: and I want you again unless I have to trying
Speaker 1: to keep collectors happy. I nodded, but my mind circled
Speaker 1: the same knee, a long winded answer to a simple question.
Speaker 1: Too many disclaimers. Stories started to diverge, not just in private,
Speaker 1: but in our circle. One night, she spun a wall
Speaker 1: tale about an investor who tried to corner heard an event,
Speaker 1: ranting undull, security intervened, the kind of dinner you can't
Speaker 1: plan for, she said, But when Max always the gossip
Speaker 1: were capped the same night as account was dull, it
Speaker 1: was pretty mellow. Honestly, if she left early seam bored,
Speaker 1: he should have been there. The kennepes were sad. I
Speaker 1: tried to let a fade, chalk it up to creative
Speaker 1: story telling, but each piece built on the lass, like
Speaker 1: some one's hand rearranging a puzzle behind glass. One night,
Speaker 1: she missed dinner entirely. I sat at a little bestro
Speaker 1: in low Dew, checking my phone. Ever fifteen minutes eventually
Speaker 1: she called, her voice a rushed whisper. Oh God, I
Speaker 1: lost track, Please forgive me love to day's been hell
Speaker 1: on coming straight home tomorrow. Whatever you want, I promise,
Speaker 1: I'll make it up. She did make it up, at
Speaker 1: least in form. The next night, she observed the table
Speaker 1: at our old favorite, dressed up, tried extra hard to
Speaker 1: laugh at my bad jokes, but she was skimming her
Speaker 1: phone under the table, some never far from the screen.
Speaker 1: I excused myself to the bathroom and watched her from
Speaker 1: the mirrored hallway. The way her face shifted, the moment
Speaker 1: she looked at her messages, tight tense look I didn't know. Later,
Speaker 1: tossing her blazer in the laundry, I noticed the scarf again,
Speaker 1: deep reddish mark like ink or old wine, still faintly visible.
Speaker 1: I lifted it close. The men's cologne was sharp and foreign,
Speaker 1: nothing of mine, nothing she'd ever bought. I held it there,
Speaker 1: pressed it to my nose, searching for clues and fabric.
Speaker 1: She was in the living room, half watching a show,
Speaker 1: and I asked about it, half choking. Whose cologne is this?
Speaker 1: It's not mine? She shrugged. You know how these events go.
Speaker 1: You stand too close to people, smells rub off. Maybe
Speaker 1: Alone's husband. He's always dusted something obnoxious. I laughed, alarm,
Speaker 1: but my heart wasn't in it. Max and I caught
Speaker 1: a drink, something we did less often these days. As
Speaker 1: the bartender refilled our glasses, he probed, voice, low, you
Speaker 1: holding up? Amelie's been everywhere lately, YEA hard to keep up.
Speaker 1: I attempt a casual. Then who was that guy at Vesper?
Speaker 1: Did you ask her? He's quinted? Searching my face. I
Speaker 1: think he's been at her gallery it maybe I see
Speaker 1: him around sometimes, look familiar, just always lingering that word lingering,
Speaker 1: It burrowed in. Was it a collective thing? You think
Speaker 1: I pressed? Working for nonchalance mac shrugged? Could be or
Speaker 1: you know, I don't follow art world drama, but he
Speaker 1: never really introduces himself when I see him. May be
Speaker 1: gallery stuff consultant. I tucked the detail away, a seed
Speaker 1: with nowhord to spread. That night, after Amelia fell asleep,
Speaker 1: I opened her galleries page on my phone, scrolling through
Speaker 1: event photos. At first, nothing stuck out except the usual suspects. Then,
Speaker 1: tracing back through tect images, I saw him dark haut,
Speaker 1: thirty something, bespoke jacket, often in group shots, always at
Speaker 1: the edge, always within arm's reach of Amelia. Never sent
Speaker 1: her stage, never named another week, another couple of working
Speaker 1: late can't bring plus ones. I have pretended to believe it,
Speaker 1: but I started showing up anyway, finding an excuse to
Speaker 1: drop by. She'd introduced me around at the start, a
Speaker 1: hand on my shoulder, but her eyes never really lingered.
Speaker 1: She'd slip away to schmooze, always deep in some conversation.
Speaker 1: The mystery man was never around when I was there,
Speaker 1: or maybe he just vanished the moment I stepped in.
Speaker 1: Either way, I got the hint. After a while. Amelia
Speaker 1: wanted me to handle my world, let to handle hers.
Speaker 1: Once she snapped tired under it after a long panel.
Speaker 1: I love that you support me, but I can handle
Speaker 1: the art world myself. Go have fun with your people. Seriously,
Speaker 1: I felt like an intruder, leaving half finished wine and
Speaker 1: the stammered could buy. I scolded myself for sneeping, for
Speaker 1: doubting her, but every avoided glance, every unfinished story, made
Speaker 1: it harder to ignore. Still, some part of me wanted
Speaker 1: to believe there was nothing. Maybe she was distressed. Maybe
Speaker 1: I'd become the Cochet paranoid and secure a domestic cup,
Speaker 1: shadowing a woman too busy to be anything but exhausted.
Speaker 1: But then Why did I keep remembering the man next
Speaker 1: to her in photos, the cologne on his scarf, the
Speaker 1: way of voice change when she thought I wasn't paying attention,
Speaker 1: I told myself, if she didn't want me at every event,
Speaker 1: it was out of respect. She wanted to protect my time,
Speaker 1: my sanity. We'd agreed early that we'd never be each
Speaker 1: other's babsitter. But every clue hardened into the next building,
Speaker 1: a pattern I could only pretend not to see. The
Speaker 1: house felt colder at night, empty in a way that
Speaker 1: had nothing to do with square footage. I would drift
Speaker 1: to the balcony, staring at the pool of city lights,
Speaker 1: wishing I knew what I was missing. One Monday, after
Speaker 1: a sleeve of events, i'd been gently nudged away from
Speaker 1: things shifted. Amelia came home, clutching her bag a little
Speaker 1: too tightly. She hovered in the kitchen while I put
Speaker 1: on tea. You look correct, I offered, careful. She didn't laugh.
Speaker 1: She leaned in the counter, hans trembling. First time I'd
Speaker 1: seen her loose composure in ages. She started talking voice,
Speaker 1: low words, hesitant. There's something I need to tell you.
Speaker 1: It's not what it looks like, but I've been hiding
Speaker 1: it because I didn't want you worrying. The words coiled
Speaker 1: in small, terror, blooming just under my ribs. I brace,
Speaker 1: waiting for the worst, but her explanation undercut my fears.
Speaker 1: She told me one of her galley's early investors had
Speaker 1: been threatening to withdraw it support unless she greet exclusive
Speaker 1: res presentation classic sleezy man powers play. She'd been staying late, negotiating,
Speaker 1: fighting off his advances, trying not to let his manipulation
Speaker 1: sing the gallery. She hadn't told me because, as she
Speaker 1: put it, I wanted to protect you from my bullet's dress.
Speaker 1: She apologized for being so dissant for the late nights,
Speaker 1: for making me feel shut out. She confessed to sometimes
Speaker 1: hiding details, not because she was cheating, but because the
Speaker 1: stakes had gotten high. She promised it would smooth out soon.
Speaker 1: When she finally let her head fall to my shoulder,
Speaker 1: I felt the surprising swell of relief. A merely exhausted,
Speaker 1: vulnerable something behind the shield dropped for the first time
Speaker 1: in weeks. The I starred between us. We spent the
Speaker 1: night like we used to, Lynn's twine in bed, all
Speaker 1: TV shows flashing take out on the coffee table. We
Speaker 1: clung to each other, desperate to feel like partners again.
Speaker 1: For the next day or two, I watched her carefully.
Speaker 1: She seemed lighter, less distracted. We joked in the elevator,
Speaker 1: plotted a quick week and get away that we'd put
Speaker 1: off for months. I called Max to tell him things
Speaker 1: were fine. He sounded and convinced, but told me not
Speaker 1: to overthink. Then Saturday morning, changing the laundry, I reached
Speaker 1: into her blaze of pocket. As I tossed it into
Speaker 1: the wash, my hand brushed something cresp small, square, thick stock.
Speaker 1: A note. I unfolded it, feeling stupid for even looking.
Speaker 1: The handwriting was careful, curling letters esched in black ink.
Speaker 1: Last night was electric, can stop thinking about you? Hotel Friday.
Speaker 1: As my vision narrowed, the note was dated the evening.
Speaker 1: She claimed to be out of town for an event.
Speaker 1: Desp not a collector, not a client, not an investor,
Speaker 1: someone who wanted a hotel night with my wife, recent
Speaker 1: enough that I could still feel last night's warm. Ordinary
Speaker 1: piece curld around us like a lie. I pressed my
Speaker 1: thumb into the corner of the cart until it nearly
Speaker 1: bent into I pressed on as if the world hadn't
Speaker 1: just listed off its axis. I let myself move through
Speaker 1: the afternoon, cleaning, running errands, pretending the apartment was still mine.
Speaker 1: My mind clicks through possibilities, searching for some mundane explanation,
Speaker 1: a prank, a joke, maybe just some bramatic friend aroment
Speaker 1: from a drunken party. Then, but the handwriting was too intimate.
Speaker 1: Each were shaped with intent. I tucked a note into
Speaker 1: my wallet, resolving not to rush. I needed more than
Speaker 1: a single piece of evidence. Amelia had always been quick,
Speaker 1: too sharp for a single thread to unraveluer. The resulting
Speaker 1: days yon wide and slow, a waiting game. I let
Speaker 1: the house saddle watch her come and go, looking for crucks,
Speaker 1: and the story sheet spun. I revised my plan. I'd
Speaker 1: been too passive. If there was a lie at the core,
Speaker 1: I didn't want to stumble into it unprepared. The next
Speaker 1: gallery event came fast, eden Lyon's Big Summer Group's show,
Speaker 1: a krub pleaser meant to draw both press and collectors.
Speaker 1: Normally I'd be given an honorary spot at the bar,
Speaker 1: both for comfort and to show support, but this time
Speaker 1: Amelia seemed eager for me to avoid deny don't you
Speaker 1: have a late meeting. It'll be a pack disaster. Too hot,
Speaker 1: too many eagles save herself. I nodded Plato long, but
Speaker 1: when the evening rolled around, I slipped on my blazer
Speaker 1: Cow's more than rise. I made my way down the block.
Speaker 1: I watched from across the street, standing beneath the laurel tree,
Speaker 1: while groups found out in front of the glass brud
Speaker 1: a whinny. I saw her holding court. She was dazzling,
Speaker 1: more animated than she'd been in weeks. Fords raised in
Speaker 1: a laugh. I could hear it even across the foot
Speaker 1: Traffic next to her close but strategic hovered a man,
Speaker 1: dark hair, tailor jacket even in the heat, a smirk
Speaker 1: I recognized from Instagram photos. I watched as Amelia linked
Speaker 1: Tom's with him, then broke away to greet an older patron.
Speaker 1: The man stay, never quite leaving her orbit mayway through
Speaker 1: the show, Amelia excused herself, weaving through the gallery. I
Speaker 1: watched her and the man step into a waiting right here, laughing.
Speaker 1: The driver pulled away, and for the first time since
Speaker 1: this whole thing started, I felt like a stranger at
Speaker 1: my own wife's vent. I hesitated, then called max. I
Speaker 1: waited for him to answer, half hoping he'd be too
Speaker 1: busy to pick up. He finally answered, distracted. Do you
Speaker 1: tell me you are not calling about work stuff? No,
Speaker 1: I said, swallowing, Actually I needed a level with me.
Speaker 1: There was a long pause. Is this about Amelia? I
Speaker 1: let the silence fill in. DIEA, who's the guy the
Speaker 1: one you saw of Vesper? He sighed, voiced softer. I
Speaker 1: guess you should know. I've seen him before, usually with her,
Speaker 1: always at odd hours. He's kind of present. I thought
Speaker 1: it was just business until once I heard them talking
Speaker 1: near the patio at seven. It sounded I don't know, close,
Speaker 1: like not just gallery talk close. What did you hear?
Speaker 1: I didn't stick around. Just her laugh sounded different, like
Speaker 1: she was happy and nervous at the same time. I
Speaker 1: let the woods settle. Did you ever ask her who
Speaker 1: he was? I tried. She shut me down pretty fast,
Speaker 1: said he was an arc consultant, nothing to worry about,
Speaker 1: consultant as hotel Friday. I scoured her galleries Instagram after
Speaker 1: we hung that, looking at every photo from out of
Speaker 1: town events. There. He was again, never front and sent us,
Speaker 1: sometimes beside her at dinner, sometime visible at a background mirror.
Speaker 1: One photo taken a wine soak restaurant is hand dressing
Speaker 1: on hers, barely visible but distinct, no tags, no captions.
Speaker 1: The next day, slipp by entinely anxious increments. At home,
Speaker 1: Amelia grew more distant, how moods swinging like a door unlatched.
Speaker 1: Some mornings she was all business, brushing her teeth in
Speaker 1: quick circles iically. Other days she newly picked a fight
Speaker 1: over nothing, her voice sharp at the edges. Any question
Speaker 1: was too much, she flinched away from touch, apologized for
Speaker 1: just being wiped out. At night, I lay awake, her
Speaker 1: back stiff against mine, wondering what happened in the gap
Speaker 1: between my first believe her now. I tried to imagine
Speaker 1: the conversation we'd have if I just asked, But every
Speaker 1: version ended with her denying, spinning further away from me.
Speaker 1: Our place when Sahaven suddenly felt like a theft. Every
Speaker 1: art piece, every shared bottle of wine, every song we
Speaker 1: played was part of a two act performance. I felt isolated,
Speaker 1: unable to confide in any one but Max, yet unable
Speaker 1: to do nothing. One afternoon, when she came home wearing
Speaker 1: another Famili scoff this time neatly pressed a faint trace
Speaker 1: of ascend. I'd learned to associate with some one else's life.
Speaker 1: I simply nodded, said nothing. Her walls were up. I
Speaker 1: told myself I would wait. I needed to know the
Speaker 1: shape of the lie before I pulled it down. That evening,
Speaker 1: over dinner, silent tasting of pepper and distance, I watched
Speaker 1: a scroll through her phone, again, careful as always to
Speaker 1: keep the screen angled away. I to ask to reach
Speaker 1: across the table, but my courage fail. Max called that
Speaker 1: night you okay, She asked, ifine okay? I said. There
Speaker 1: was a beat of sympathy. He offered to meet for
Speaker 1: a drink. I declined I needed the time, needed the
Speaker 1: next piece. I didn't sleep. I reread the note, staring
Speaker 1: at every curl of ink, every pleasantry weaponize. Last night
Speaker 1: was electric. I started planning. If she had secrets, I
Speaker 1: would find them. If this was just an affair, I
Speaker 1: could at least know, But deep down I suspected it
Speaker 1: was bigger. Not just physical, but an intimacy had been
Speaker 1: locked out of an entire well, partitioned off from the
Speaker 1: one I thought we'd built a radical honesty. Suddenly nothing
Speaker 1: but set dressing in small hours, I watched the city
Speaker 1: lights bleed out from our window, asking myself was it
Speaker 1: my fault for wanting to trust too much or hers
Speaker 1: for choosing to hide. The next morning, I left early
Speaker 1: for the co working space, Walking past rows of condos
Speaker 1: as the city yarn awake, I tried to force my
Speaker 1: brain toward the safe, unremarkable details of my job. The
Speaker 1: lobby was already full of flattery entrepreneurs, Junior Kurder's arguing
Speaker 1: over API structures, coffee disastered. I plunged myself into maintain
Speaker 1: conference room tasks, checking bookings, reviewing inverses, fielding the usual
Speaker 1: headache in jucing requests. There was comfort in the rhythms,
Speaker 1: the precision of scheduling, security locks. The petty drama of
Speaker 1: desteff wars at the edge of my focus. Amelia's world
Speaker 1: hovered out of reach. At ten, I ducked into my
Speaker 1: office to approve weekly vender payments. There, in the unlovely
Speaker 1: glare of my monitor, I called our joint account's summary.
Speaker 1: My mind flicked and bidden to the avs consulting withdrawal
Speaker 1: some naught at me. I hovered over the detail, lingered
Speaker 1: on the uncertain reasonings she gave and tax myself, trying
Speaker 1: to rationalize. In eight years of loving Amelia had learned
Speaker 1: to accept her improvisition approach to business, but these lines
Speaker 1: had always been clear. Money was discussed, not longed through confusion.
Speaker 1: I almost texted her then, but stopped picturing her, silencing
Speaker 1: the phone, thumbing a half hard of reply, A crazy day.
Speaker 1: Can we talk after? Instead? I paged through our finances,
Speaker 1: noticing another curious charge, this time too little artist in
Speaker 1: perfume shop in midtown, A NodD purchased for someone who'd
Speaker 1: never cared for boutique's sense, who'd always said she preferred skin,
Speaker 1: sweat and red wine to manufactured smiles. The date lined
Speaker 1: up with her supposed out of town overnight. I jotted
Speaker 1: the merchant name on a notepad, Feeling ridiculous. My day
Speaker 1: blowed through meetings and troubleshooting calls. Around lunch, Max pinged
Speaker 1: me with a dry mean about client meetings that should
Speaker 1: have been emails. I replied with the thumbs up, then
Speaker 1: hesitated lunch her, I wrote, He answered, letchiga in twenty
Speaker 1: I'll grab us a booth. The bee strow was noisy,
Speaker 1: sent tumbling and through plate glass windows. Max flagged me down,
Speaker 1: already deep in a conversation with the buttender we ordered
Speaker 1: and in the noisy lull, I decided not to wait.
Speaker 1: So you've seen this guy at the gallery vesper whatever?
Speaker 1: Does he always show up with Amelia? He barely blinked,
Speaker 1: Not always, but yet he seems connected, connected how Max
Speaker 1: fiddled with a straw. Honestly, man, I don't pay enough
Speaker 1: attention to her professional side. I like a party, but
Speaker 1: all those gallery folks kind of clump together, talking code,
Speaker 1: the skuy sebastion. I think he's just always there. I
Speaker 1: don't know if it's business for it. He trails off,
Speaker 1: as if few regretted, even hinting. I forced a smile,
Speaker 1: but my heart raised. You don't think it's weird, I asked,
Speaker 1: pushing past my own discomfort. Maybe. Look, Amelia has always
Speaker 1: had groupies, people who want in business, networking, whatever. But
Speaker 1: you always knew when she was just musing this. I
Speaker 1: don't know. He's not like the other's kind of invisible
Speaker 1: unless you look for him. Our sandwiches arrived, I nodded,
Speaker 1: barely tasting my food. Anything else, I press, feeling like
Speaker 1: a bad detective. They ever see them together off ours,
Speaker 1: Max thought for a long moment saw them at seven
Speaker 1: months late. They left after one drink. Seemed close, laughing.
Speaker 1: Could be nothing, yeah, I said, but didn't believe it.
Speaker 1: After lunch, I gave myself a mission check out that
Speaker 1: perfume shop. I told my team I had to run
Speaker 1: a quick errand and walk the few blocks to Miten's
Speaker 1: cluster of beautique shops. Inside shelves sparkled with glass bottles,
Speaker 1: all permutations of amber and musk. Athen foxy faced woman
Speaker 1: greeted me gift shopping. She asked, I said, maybe my
Speaker 1: wife came in last week. I think a little after
Speaker 1: five bran hare tall, great tastes. He remember her? She nodded,
Speaker 1: smiling thinly. Yes, Amelia from Edenlynge Gallery. She bought two bottles.
Speaker 1: She said she needed something for herself and something special
Speaker 1: for a friend. The woman paused. The friend was Sebastian.
Speaker 1: I think, she said he was consulting on a big launch.
Speaker 1: For a moment, I just absorbed these with which strangers
Speaker 1: accepted their closeness. Did she seem happy? She laughed lightly.
Speaker 1: They were laughing about something on the phone. Seemed tight.
Speaker 1: He called her, asking her to pick the dangerous one.
Speaker 1: She wiggled her fingers in a mock spell. She picked
Speaker 1: us by Seas sent for him, said he had to
Speaker 1: wear it that night or he was out of the circle.
Speaker 1: The woman grinned, oblivious. I bought something random, thanked her,
Speaker 1: and stumbled back on to the sidewalk. Spiceus sent for Sebastian,
Speaker 1: delivered by Amelia. When I got home that night, the
Speaker 1: condo was empty, her shoes were gone, claws at ransacked
Speaker 1: for a vent were. I wandered into the bathroom, ran
Speaker 1: my hand over the towels, even checked her perfume shelf.
Speaker 1: Two new bottles. I checked the labels. One smelled like
Speaker 1: cordum set on fire. The other was a deep, animalic
Speaker 1: basunmistakably masculine. The scar from earlier, left crumpled in the hamper,
Speaker 1: caught my eye. I pressed my nose to it again,
Speaker 1: and now the scent matched the second bottle exactly. I
Speaker 1: merely breezed in at half past ten, radiant from the road,
Speaker 1: her energy blinding. She packed my cheek and flitted through
Speaker 1: the kitchen, huming tunelessly. Tough day, I asked, exhausting, she called,
Speaker 1: setting her phone to charge on the counter. But productive
Speaker 1: landed a new set of collectors. Her answer was smooth, rehearsed.
Speaker 1: I tried, did you see Max at the event? He
Speaker 1: said he might swing by? She faltered just a second. No,
Speaker 1: must have missed him. Place was packed. I didn't press,
Speaker 1: but I watched her closely. Her hands moved too fast,
Speaker 1: voice high. After a minute, she yawned for effect. I'm
Speaker 1: showering and collapsing. Wake me at your peril. She left
Speaker 1: her phone again, screen lit up with a message, Privy,
Speaker 1: just a first initiatives, followed by a thanks for to night.
Speaker 1: He saved me. I stirred at the message, memorized it
Speaker 1: did nothing. The next morning, our old rood and returned
Speaker 1: coffee together on the balcony, city stretched out beneath us,
Speaker 1: the sense of normalcy almost real. She smiles close to me,
Speaker 1: her foot pressed against mine. I wanted to be convinced
Speaker 1: by a claude for comfort. She told me about an
Speaker 1: upcoming artist's retreat over night, up state, small group. Just woman,
Speaker 1: promise you'd hate too many vision boards and wine sprinters.
Speaker 1: I nodded, smiled back. Let her believe I was buying it.
Speaker 1: At work. My brain ran in circles. I scanned her galleries, Instagram,
Speaker 1: and social media, reading between the captions, looking for clues.
Speaker 1: Event after events. Sebastian was there, always on the periphery,
Speaker 1: sometimes tagged, more often not. He was at the vesper
Speaker 1: Artist's meet. He was at the last opening in Brooklyn.
Speaker 1: He was in the background at the hotel, laughing with
Speaker 1: another consultant. One photo in particular stuck with me. A
Speaker 1: blurry candid of her at a long table. She's grinning,
Speaker 1: listening to some one across from her. Sebastian, just out
Speaker 1: of focus, is reaching over the table. Her hand is
Speaker 1: resting beside his, their fingers almost touching. Their postures. Two
Speaker 1: familiar for strangers or colleagues. A friend's hand holding mine
Speaker 1: in public is one thing. An almost love as casual
Speaker 1: near touches another. I'd seen enough gallery dynamics to know
Speaker 1: the difference. I tried to compartmentalize it. Maybe it's all
Speaker 1: in my head. Maybe I'm chasing ghosts because I can't
Speaker 1: quite match her pace any more. She's allowed friends, she's
Speaker 1: a loud business partners. Still, I made myself a rule.
Speaker 1: One suspicion, one scrap of hard evidence at a time,
Speaker 1: A note assaut the glances Hinan's these are just stads,
Speaker 1: not nuts. That evening, she forgot again a dinner date
Speaker 1: i'd set for just us. My text posed an answer
Speaker 1: for an hour before she finally replied. Caught at the
Speaker 1: studio with the last minute artist walk through rain check,
Speaker 1: I now I could recite the excuses. She came home late,
Speaker 1: dropped her bag one straight for the bedroom. I weed
Speaker 1: it up when I gently confronted her at midnight, trying
Speaker 1: to keep my voice even I worry when you vanish,
Speaker 1: you know, she gave a tire laugh. I'm sorry, truly.
Speaker 1: The gallery is just swallowing me whole right now. Once
Speaker 1: the new show launches, I'll be free. Just let me
Speaker 1: get this mountain, okay. We held each other in the dark.
Speaker 1: She burrowed in, but her breast came fast, shallow, her
Speaker 1: skin was distant. The next weekend brought a charity gale
Speaker 1: of downtown big social event, a type we used to
Speaker 1: attend as a team. Heard to network, meet to bear witness,
Speaker 1: and sneak of fresh drinks when the lines got slow.
Speaker 1: This time, however, when I asked about the invitation, she
Speaker 1: smiled apologetically. Plus one's not encouraged. It's all industry. Everyone's
Speaker 1: sizing each other up for deals. You'd just get bored
Speaker 1: and I'd be no fun trying to juggle two lives.
Speaker 1: She kissed my forehead. Breezy next time, I promise. I nodded,
Speaker 1: but I already knew my answer. I waited until I
Speaker 1: was sure she'd left, watched her walk out in her
Speaker 1: new green dress, heels clicking determinately. Then I texted Max,
Speaker 1: you're around downtown tonight. Galea at the Foundry, He replied,
Speaker 1: heard about it? Why thinking about dropping by for a drink?
Speaker 1: Call me if you need reinforcements. I arrived late, blending
Speaker 1: into the tide of half familiar faces. The main ballroom
Speaker 1: was lush, music throbbing just under the roar of voices.
Speaker 1: I spoted merely, quickly luminous, under a crystal chandelier, surrounded
Speaker 1: by three men in sharp suits, one of whom was,
Speaker 1: of course, Sebastian. I have read at the fringes, trying
Speaker 1: not to be seen, watching her body language. She was animated,
Speaker 1: but controlled laughter, restrained, tilting her chin towards Sebastian more
Speaker 1: than the others. When the group fractured, Sebastian's idled and closer,
Speaker 1: whispering something in her ear that made her lip stritch
Speaker 1: into a secret smile. I felt Clammy, intruding, even amid
Speaker 1: the sea of privilege and noise. Before I could lose
Speaker 1: my nerve, I texted Max. Found the two of them
Speaker 1: very cozy. He sent back gallery world man artists and
Speaker 1: their fixers, always a mess. I stayed just long enough
Speaker 1: to watch Amelia glide over to another group, Sebastian drifting
Speaker 1: after her. She never once looked for me. I left
Speaker 1: through the side door, rein starting to spit against the
Speaker 1: concrete city, spinning slightly out of focus. That night, back
Speaker 1: at the condo, I went through every plausible excuse, every
Speaker 1: line I could give myself to avoid the obvious. Maybe
Speaker 1: they were just close colleagues after all. Maybe I'd give
Speaker 1: it one more week, one more chance, a clear explanation.
Speaker 1: But the explo nations when they came were always too neat.
Speaker 1: Always an investor, always a client in crisis, always some
Speaker 1: new emergency just beyond the wall of her day. Sunday morning,
Speaker 1: she was asleep when I rose. I sat on the
Speaker 1: edge of the bed, watched her, breathing, wondering which stories
Speaker 1: were true, which memories belonged to me and which she
Speaker 1: had manufactured for safety hers or mine. Later that afternoon,
Speaker 1: we attended a bunch of Cure and John's placeful friends
Speaker 1: from our hussliers. The four of us, cut from similar cloth,
Speaker 1: always fell naturally back into reminiscing about our share beginnings.
Speaker 1: It should have been easy, but this time Amelia was tense,
Speaker 1: jumping at her prone's every boughs, barely eating, glancing at
Speaker 1: the door as if waiting for a signal to bolt.
Speaker 1: At one point, John asked, hey, as a truer gallery
Speaker 1: just landed one of Sebastian Lane's top clients. That's a cue, Paane.
Speaker 1: She nodded, face bright for an instant, but her hands
Speaker 1: are drifted. Yes, sort of. He's consulting for multiple people now,
Speaker 1: always a step ahead, No rest for the wicked. Kira grinned.
Speaker 1: He came by last week, told us he practically living
Speaker 1: at Edenleine these days. You two work well together, Amelia smile,
Speaker 1: froze her eyes, skating past me. He's good at what
Speaker 1: he does. His schedule is murder. Though she changed the
Speaker 1: subject so abruptly even Kira blinked. I filed the moment
Speaker 1: away they all knew about him, saw his presence as
Speaker 1: a professional asset. But nothing about that dinner or her
Speaker 1: tense silences felt like flourishing business to me. That night,
Speaker 1: as she got ready for bed, Amelia stopped in the doorway.
Speaker 1: Saw what did be? City? Lie. You look like you've
Speaker 1: seen a ghost, she said. I tried for honesty. I
Speaker 1: feel like I'm losing you to something I can't name.
Speaker 1: She crossed to me, laying a hand on my cheek,
Speaker 1: a searching I'm here. It's just everything so much right now.
Speaker 1: I'll be back, I promise. All I wanted was to
Speaker 1: believe her. But as I drifted to sleep, her phone
Speaker 1: vibrated from the dresser, one, two, three times. She didn't stir.
Speaker 1: The next day, a cold and late told my team,
Speaker 1: I had a personal errand. I walked to the beauty
Speaker 1: hotel a few blocks from the gallery, the one from
Speaker 1: the note. The concierge, a man in his twenties with
Speaker 1: the board steady deficiency, greeted me. I'm looking for my wife,
Speaker 1: I said, rehearsing a smile. She left something in her
Speaker 1: friend's room. Ethink Amelia Moss. He gave the practice look
Speaker 1: of a man used to fielding requests from people with
Speaker 1: too much money and too many needs. She stays with
Speaker 1: us from time to time. Sir, I'm afraid I can't
Speaker 1: give guest information privacy policy, of course, I said, pushing
Speaker 1: on is Sebastian. Here his eyes flickered. He checked out
Speaker 1: this morning, left a note for a mess moss. Shall
Speaker 1: I hold it for her? My stomach crenched, no need,
Speaker 1: I'll tell her. I left, feeling get at a simple
Speaker 1: confirmation where denial once flourished. That night, sitting beside Emilia
Speaker 1: on the couch, I felt my own secrecy rising up,
Speaker 1: matching hers, wretched and involuntary. She made small talk, flipping
Speaker 1: through channels. I washed her, barely able to hold still.
Speaker 1: I wanted to scream. Instead, I got up, saying I'd
Speaker 1: forgotten something at work, and woked for an hour in
Speaker 1: circles around the block. Whenever returned. She was asleep on
Speaker 1: the couch, while glass empty at her elbow, scuff crumpled
Speaker 1: beside her like a signature. I went into the kitchen,
Speaker 1: pulled out the card for my wallet. It had become talisman,
Speaker 1: evidence that the impossible was just another reality I hadn't faced.
Speaker 1: I let myself fantasize a world where she just told
Speaker 1: me with the lies were less elegant, the betrayal more cartoonish.
Speaker 1: But Amelia did nothing that wasn't precise. Every omission, every deflection,
Speaker 1: bespoke a woman who'd calculated the risk of honesty and
Speaker 1: decided the cost was too high. By midweek, I planned
Speaker 1: my next step. If there were more strings to pull,
Speaker 1: more evidence to surface, I would find it. But with
Speaker 1: every discovery, I wondered, was this about catching her or
Speaker 1: about making the truth undeniable for myself? The boundary between
Speaker 1: wanting answers and fearing them had blowed into something else,
Speaker 1: on edge I had to cross, whether or not I
Speaker 1: was ready. I moved through the next day like someone
Speaker 1: carrying a glass of scalding water. Every motion careful, every
Speaker 1: word monitored for heat. I merely drifted through the condo two,
Speaker 1: almost spectral. Her routines were there by, her presence barely
Speaker 1: reached the surface. She left early for the gallery, muttering
Speaker 1: about prepping for a late afternoon artist drop in. She
Speaker 1: didn't kiss me, didn't meet my eye. I breakfasted alone,
Speaker 1: twas cooling in my hand, Mine stock on the events
Speaker 1: I'd witnessed at the hotel, the snap of the note
Speaker 1: between my fingers. Around noon, I flicked through the inbox
Speaker 1: at work, fielding client complaints, automating tasks, deleting useless reminders,
Speaker 1: but nothing stuck. The only certainty was the image of
Speaker 1: Sebastian's hand at the small of her back as they
Speaker 1: had left Eden. Lie at the ease with which he
Speaker 1: draped his arm, the casual, constant orbit. It was in business.
Speaker 1: I'd seen that kind of proximity before, in myself and
Speaker 1: other couples when they thought the crowd wasn't looking after
Speaker 1: the artist's retreat, lie, the myst to knows, the scind
Speaker 1: of unfamiliar cologne, the hotel concierge's knowing polite mask, even
Speaker 1: Max's halting honesty. I couldn't keep the shield around my denial.
Speaker 1: I spent the day skimming Instagram, reading captions, tracking commons, obsessive,
Speaker 1: ridiculous work. Several followers mentioned their favorite power coupled at
Speaker 1: the Foundry Gala, playing up the chemistry between Amelia and
Speaker 1: Sebastian with knowing emergies. Not a single mention of me.
Speaker 1: I scrolled so long I made myself dizzy. I paced
Speaker 1: the living room that evening, waiting for the elevator to
Speaker 1: deliver her. My plan now had a shape. I would
Speaker 1: see it through. She told enough lies about investors, about
Speaker 1: business trips, about exclusive and emergencies to occupy a month
Speaker 1: of soap operas. I recognized suddenly how much of my
Speaker 1: love had been predicated on the idea that she could
Speaker 1: always escape any room, charm Annie's snake toalk her way
Speaker 1: out of every tad spot. But now her veneer of
Speaker 1: control was a blade press to my skin. Around seven,
Speaker 1: she texted she to be home late final and stole
Speaker 1: for tomorrow's show with the tiny blue heart. I stared
Speaker 1: at it for a while, the emoji like a dare
Speaker 1: I didn't reply. I turned on the TV, muted just
Speaker 1: for companionship, and watched her location flicker off to find
Speaker 1: my map no signal for forty minutes. When it flicked back,
Speaker 1: she was a few blocks from vesper nearly exactly where
Speaker 1: the hotel sat. A practical part of me whispered about
Speaker 1: battery blips, sterrant GPS, the randomness of downtown routes, but
Speaker 1: my mind kept cycling back to her Sebastian. A room
Speaker 1: key exchanged under the hush of gallery gossip. When she
Speaker 1: came in, it was after eleven. She was quiet, face tired,
Speaker 1: make up rub clean. She dumped her bag at the door,
Speaker 1: barily glancing at me. Long day, he still up, I
Speaker 1: newted the TV, couldn't sleep. She kicked off for shoes,
Speaker 1: lingered near the window, fiddling with the scarf at her throat,
Speaker 1: another from the same expensive shop. The silence stretched, then
Speaker 1: eventually she asked, everything okay. I wanted to say no,
Speaker 1: that I'd had enough silence, that my mind was now
Speaker 1: a cage. Instead, I offered, can we talk? She froze,
Speaker 1: can this wait? I might? She moved past me to
Speaker 1: the bedroom without looking back. I let her go, hearing
Speaker 1: the water run, picturing her alone in the mirror, collecting
Speaker 1: herself for another act. I slept on the couch, knees
Speaker 1: drawn up, watching the city cycle through blue to orange
Speaker 1: to black. All I could do was wait for her distance,
Speaker 1: now a decision. The days that followed grew brittle. She
Speaker 1: left before I woke, return after midnight, always wrapped in
Speaker 1: new lairs, her phone never far, always faced down. The
Speaker 1: few times we did cross in the kitchen. She was
Speaker 1: also for safe pleasantries, where the gallery baits and anecdotes,
Speaker 1: never once mentioning Sebastian by name. Outside our home, rumors
Speaker 1: orbited us. Friends asked if we were ever around any more,
Speaker 1: Max meeting me for He confess, it's getting obvious, man,
Speaker 1: you barely say anything these days. People are going to
Speaker 1: start asking questions. I shrugged, hearing the rising impact. Let
Speaker 1: them it's not their business, but the pressure mounted at
Speaker 1: every angle. At the co working space, I caught myself
Speaker 1: missing meetings, shooting off clipped e mails, losing track of deadlines.
Speaker 1: I snapped at a genius staffer from misallocating discs bookings,
Speaker 1: then apologized with the coffee I barely meant. Home was
Speaker 1: no safer. Emilia's moved to riksheet one night, sarcastic lobbing
Speaker 1: bobbed about how nobody outside the artwalve really gets it.
Speaker 1: The next night, so fragis she barely spoke. One night
Speaker 1: when she came in shaky than usual. I heard her
Speaker 1: crying in the shower, sound I hadn't heard in years,
Speaker 1: not since the first time her gallery almost folded. I
Speaker 1: pressed my palms into my eyes, rosicindly urged to comfort her.
Speaker 1: I couldn't be both a casualty and her savior. If
Speaker 1: I crossed that line, I'd never get what I needed. Meanwhile,
Speaker 1: the condo felt smaller. Evenings thickened with what I didn't say.
Speaker 1: Once she left her laptop open on the counter, a
Speaker 1: message chain on screen for a moment, just initials and
Speaker 1: a dinner confirmation, the time matching I supposed emergency client
Speaker 1: visit the night before, I memorized at closing the lid
Speaker 1: before she could catch me. Prussia kept building. At Max's suggestion,
Speaker 1: I joined a few mutual friends for drinks at her
Speaker 1: roofed up bar, forcing myself to smile to dodge questions.
Speaker 1: It only made returning home was her world moving forward?
Speaker 1: Mine stocking place. I started notes in small financial anomalies
Speaker 1: Huber receipts from strange times, dinner charges for two or
Speaker 1: that she claimed she ate to the gallery, ought supply orders,
Speaker 1: charged back to the gallery, even while appearing as dual
Speaker 1: person dinners on joint statements. My stomach nodded, but I
Speaker 1: stopped bringing them up. Her explanations no longer made sense,
Speaker 1: even in outline. When I asked about ivous consulting again,
Speaker 1: mentioning suspicious charge I had noticed the second time she
Speaker 1: bristled Why are you so obsessed with my account right now?
Speaker 1: Don't you have enough on your plate? I let my
Speaker 1: hands rest on the marble edge of the counter, forcing
Speaker 1: my tone flat, just making sure nothing slipping through. Her
Speaker 1: eyes flashed, Maybe focus on your own business. I have
Speaker 1: enough investus checking up on me without you adding to it.
Speaker 1: That was the final break in our old routine. From then,
Speaker 1: she kept proceeds to herself. Passwords changed. She started locking
Speaker 1: the gallery office when she left, something she never done before.
Speaker 1: Each small escalation made confrontation seem inevitable, yet irresistible, a
Speaker 1: tide nothing could delay. Max warn me as kindly as
Speaker 1: he could. If you're going to do this, do it soon.
Speaker 1: You already know, don't you. I nodded. I just want
Speaker 1: to hear her say it. A week later, after a
Speaker 1: particularly tense day, I found myself outside the gallery, near
Speaker 1: closing rain drip from the awning foot traffic, slack windows
Speaker 1: glow with spotlights on new work. Amelia stood inside in
Speaker 1: her element, chatting animatedly with a couple of spoke rein gear.
Speaker 1: In a far corner, Sebastian loitered arms folded attention on
Speaker 1: Amelia's every word. I waited for the crowd to clear,
Speaker 1: pacing just outside line of sight. When the door finally
Speaker 1: swung open and the group spilled out onto the street,
Speaker 1: Amelia lingoed, saying her goodbyes. I caught a glimpse of
Speaker 1: her touching Sebastian's elbow, murmuring something I couldn't hear. He smiled,
Speaker 1: hand settling on her back for a half beat. It
Speaker 1: was time. I nodded my fas heard hyperth thumping, and
Speaker 1: stepped into the light. She looked up, eyes white to
Speaker 1: see me at the door. You came, Can we talk?
Speaker 1: My voice cracked, I forced it steady. Nah. She looked around,
Speaker 1: scanning for escape. Sebastian, catching my mood, half smiled and
Speaker 1: drifted down the block, hands deep in his pockets. She
Speaker 1: watched him lee before turning to me. What's going on?
Speaker 1: I let the silence pull and till my throat hurt.
Speaker 1: Who is he to you? Amelia? Her jaw flexed. He's
Speaker 1: a consultant, ye know that. I reached into my pocket,
Speaker 1: pulled out the folded card, the note marked US. I
Speaker 1: watched her see it, recognition flickering. Is he business? I asked, quietly,
Speaker 1: almost begging, Is this business too? She blinked rapidly, face
Speaker 1: crumpling for half a second before her composures woved itself
Speaker 1: back into place. It's complicated. The tides grew to deflect. Pause,
Speaker 1: Hyde then uncomplicated, oppressed every word a wedge. Why the hotel,
Speaker 1: the dinner's the constant secrets? Why the lies? Her hands
Speaker 1: trembled on her back strap. She set it down, I
Speaker 1: room scarlet. She's spoke in a rush. Now her old
Speaker 1: confidence fractured. I didn't mean for it to happen at first. Yes,
Speaker 1: I was using him. The gallery needed his connections, his people. God,
Speaker 1: it's brutal out there, you know it. But it didn't
Speaker 1: stay business. We started meeting more at dinners, drinks, after parties.
Speaker 1: He understood the pressure. He made me feel less alone.
Speaker 1: I thought I could control it, but then it all
Speaker 1: got mixed up. I started hiding things, and once I started,
Speaker 1: I couldn't stop. A cold wind curled through the doorway,
Speaker 1: lifting the edge of her coat, goosebump's rowers on her arms.
Speaker 1: I've felt nothing for a moment, no shock, only confirmation.
Speaker 1: Why keep lying, I asked, You could have told me.
Speaker 1: We've always told each other everything. She shook her head too,
Speaker 1: starting now, because I couldn't lose you, not for one mistake.
Speaker 1: I thought it would pass. Then it became a habit,
Speaker 1: and then hiding became easier than telling the truth. He
Speaker 1: broke us for a man who's just another consultant. My
Speaker 1: voice rose despite myself. She snapped, brittle. Don't you dare
Speaker 1: pretend you understand you're not there when the door's closed.
Speaker 1: The art world eats people. I have to be ruthless
Speaker 1: every day. I got tired of being the only one
Speaker 1: fighting to keep everything alive. Sometimes I just wanted to
Speaker 1: be somewhere else, I said at her, So what am
Speaker 1: I then just back rund noise to your new story.
Speaker 1: She let the bar bland. Then her face softened. Drommortsful,
Speaker 1: real voice, a whisper. No, you were home. I hated lying,
Speaker 1: I hated even now, But every time I tried to stop,
Speaker 1: I was afraid you'd see how much had already changed.
Speaker 1: She covered her eyes, swaying a little. I tried to
Speaker 1: end it, Swear to God I did, but you didn't.
Speaker 1: She shook her head, the smallest movement. I wanted to scream,
Speaker 1: to ask all the questions I'd rehused in my head
Speaker 1: wiy Sebastian, how many times? Why not me? But the
Speaker 1: answers were all the same. My world tilting finally collapsed.
Speaker 1: I can't do this, I said, voice breaking. I can't
Speaker 1: keep pretending we're in this together. Her hands flew to
Speaker 1: my jacket, desperate, but I stepped back. I need spass, Ameliar,
Speaker 1: you need to figure out what you want, because this,
Speaker 1: I gestured around to her gallery, to the city spooling
Speaker 1: out beneath her rain is built on too many lives.
Speaker 1: She opened her mouth, but no words came, tears streaming.
Speaker 1: I turned and walked away, boots squeaking on the polished floor,
Speaker 1: hot feet feeling like a wound. The city was loud, neon, alive.
Speaker 1: My head pounded. I headed straight from Axes, texting him
Speaker 1: one line, can I crash? He didn't reply, but I
Speaker 1: knew he'd understand. No questions, just space. I walked without stopping,
Speaker 1: back that digging into my shoulder, the contents of my
Speaker 1: life suddenly small enough to fit in one sack. At
Speaker 1: the condo, I barely stopped long enough to pack the apartment.
Speaker 1: Haunt called and empty. Amelia's shoes flung by the door
Speaker 1: as golf hung half off the rack, old wine glasses
Speaker 1: drying by the sink. She didn't come in. Maybe she
Speaker 1: stood outside, Maybe she cried, maybe she called Sebastian. It
Speaker 1: didn't matter now. I pulled the barest essential's clothes lapped
Speaker 1: up about a book the note for my waller. I
Speaker 1: texted the building manager, asking him to freeze the utility
Speaker 1: split for the time being. Drafted a n eenot to
Speaker 1: my boss. Kneed to work remote for a wild personal reasons.
Speaker 1: My finger hovered on the sand button as the room's
Speaker 1: dimmers pressed in. On the way out, I took one
Speaker 1: last week through our home. The art on the walls
Speaker 1: looked suddenly alien. Every brushri evidence of a fantasy I'd
Speaker 1: shared but never try rully understood. I locked the door
Speaker 1: quietly behind me. At Max's late the city, pressing cool
Speaker 1: ethroughcrat windows, I sat at his kitchen table, staring at
Speaker 1: my reflection in the black kettle. My limbs moved on autopilot,
Speaker 1: tea bag, boil mug, but my hand shook. Max dropped
Speaker 1: a blanket at the foot of the guest couch, muttered,
Speaker 1: I'll be dead to the world whatever ye need man.
Speaker 1: Then he left me alone with the city's constant static.
Speaker 1: My phone buzz, Amelia's name lighting up the screen again
Speaker 1: and again. I let them go in answered each vibration,
Speaker 1: carving the distance wider. I texted her only once, who
Speaker 1: don't expect me? Hum? This week, I skipped a friend
Speaker 1: bout the party that we can, replying to the group chat.
Speaker 1: That works a mess, I'll cele a bratty. Soon the
Speaker 1: truth fell foreign, awkward. I would have rather fielded any disappointment,
Speaker 1: but theirs mutual friends started reaching out curious, ply, all
Speaker 1: assuming some busy married week. No idea bridge had burned
Speaker 1: in the middle of our lives. Late that night, culled
Speaker 1: under one of Max's worn throws, every ridge of muscle
Speaker 1: finally beginning to decompress. I lay awake, staring at the
Speaker 1: shadows on the ceiling. Now our eight years felt like
Speaker 1: an echo in a space just barely too small for
Speaker 1: my memories. I could see the city from this new
Speaker 1: vantage point to jagged, ordinary, indifferent. The sky outside had
Speaker 1: swallowed up the lights, leaving only my own silouett against
Speaker 1: a pane of chilly glass. Sometimes you wait for a
Speaker 1: last fight, for one more plea, for some redemption, But
Speaker 1: there wasn't any The next morning, she emailed a handful
Speaker 1: of sentences, no subject line. She didn't beg me back,
Speaker 1: didn't explain further, just it wasn't all a lie. I'm sorry.
Speaker 1: Tell me when you want to talk about the condo.
Speaker 1: I'll stay somewhere else if you need. I hope you
Speaker 1: find relief. Practical consequences stuck their claws in updating the utilities,
Speaker 1: briefing my boss, fielding Max's wary glances. As I bumbled
Speaker 1: through a work day in a stranger's borrowed T shirt.
Speaker 1: The shared routines disappeared with barely ripple. The only evidence
Speaker 1: of their passing was the sudden silence in my pocket,
Speaker 1: the lack of intent behind each meal, the way the
Speaker 1: city sounded different, waking up somewhere that wasn't home. I
Speaker 1: closed my phone after her message, Staring at the wall.
Speaker 1: My mind ran for hours. No tears left, only the
Speaker 1: ache of repetition, of re living things no lodger couldn't do.
Speaker 1: She made her choice. Now all I could do was
Speaker 1: make mine. The morning came, sharp light bleeding over the
Speaker 1: sky line. As I lay groggy on the lumpy couch,
Speaker 1: I got up, poured myself coffee in a chip mug
Speaker 1: and stood at Max's window, the familiarity of my own
Speaker 1: building floating on the horizon. I dug in my bag,
Speaker 1: pulled out the nut, creased inks much now from handling.
Speaker 1: I pressed it flat on the counter, looked every loop
Speaker 1: and curve, every electric promise that wasn't for me, It
Speaker 1: was just paper. I slid it into the trash. I
Speaker 1: texted the building manager one last time. I'll arrange to
Speaker 1: come for my stuff this week. Let Amelia know I'll
Speaker 1: coordinate coffee in hand. I finally exhaled. The city moved on,
Speaker 1: cars crawling through streets, people rushing to jobs, the sky
Speaker 1: line indifferent. My life had become someone else's story. Now
Speaker 1: the rest mmrton. I didn't know what forgiveness would be,
Speaker 1: if it would ever come, but at least the ground
Speaker 1: beneath my feet was my own again. Truss doesn't break
Speaker 1: in a thunderclap. It shrinks down, piece by piece, until
Speaker 1: all that's left is the sound of your own heart,
Speaker 1: steady and avoidable, pushing you forward whether you want it
Speaker 1: or not. Max got up before I'd even finished my coffee,
Speaker 1: Shuffling barefoot to the kitchen. He glanced at the crumpled
Speaker 1: note in the trash, said nothing, but placed a clean
Speaker 1: mug down next to me. Did you sleep, he asked,
Speaker 1: a voice low sort of, I said, even though we
Speaker 1: both knew it wasn't true. He nodded, I'm heading out
Speaker 1: for a run if ye need just ye no stay
Speaker 1: as long as he trailed off, making it clear that
Speaker 1: whatever awkwardness sat between us, his place was mine for now.
Speaker 1: I appreciated it, but felt the limits of even deep
Speaker 1: friendship against the dimension of the loss. Once he gone,
Speaker 1: I showered and sat on his balcony for a while,
Speaker 1: forced to look at my building over the jumble rooftops,
Speaker 1: wondering if she was up yet, whether she'd slept, what
Speaker 1: it meant if she had. The apartment was stuffy, already
Speaker 1: warming under the city's haze. I checked e mails, tried
Speaker 1: to focus on work, answered three, deleted twenty. It ignored
Speaker 1: the rest. The wall's little rituals continued on schedule, but
Speaker 1: asnone approached, my phone buzzed an incoming call from an
Speaker 1: unfamiliar number. For a moment insecurity searched, I answered, expecting spam,
Speaker 1: some robe call, or a client. Instead a calm, older
Speaker 1: woman's voice. How do I apologize for calling directly. This
Speaker 1: is Marlene. I work with Sebastian. He said, you might
Speaker 1: have questions about some invissis I email for the gallery.
Speaker 1: Emelia mentioned that you sometimes help with the accounts. The
Speaker 1: words fell like pebbles in my gut. She was just
Speaker 1: doing her job, but I realized how much business and
Speaker 1: money had moved round me in the last months. My
Speaker 1: name still tied to systems that had blown between personal
Speaker 1: and professional. I brushed her off with half truths, I'm
Speaker 1: out of the loop these days. If you have questions,
Speaker 1: send them to a milion now. She hesitated, certainly, sorry
Speaker 1: to bother. I hung up, but the loose words kept
Speaker 1: in ravelin in my head, the money, the lies. A
Speaker 1: relationship i'd believe rested on radical honesty of all, built
Speaker 1: on my willingness to look past what didn't add up.
Speaker 1: Out of habit. I checked the share email in books
Speaker 1: would set up while co buying art for our place
Speaker 1: when she largely abandoned. There were a half dozen in
Speaker 1: red auto emails, new invises, account access notifications for garden
Speaker 1: calendar reminders, nothing well chattering, but each one bore traces
Speaker 1: of the old life nafraying drifting uneasily out of my reach.
Speaker 1: By mid afternoon, a group message buzzed hom my phone,
Speaker 1: our mutual circulating brunch plans, the usual joke laden thread.
Speaker 1: My name was tagged, then hers in quick sequence, miss
Speaker 1: you cheo or read one whence the next are tour.
Speaker 1: I stared at the threat, smiling digital avatars, realizing we'd
Speaker 1: been a unit in every social plot for years now.
Speaker 1: I was an art fact to my presence, and their
Speaker 1: routines persisted, even as my future in them didn't. Reflexively,
Speaker 1: my fingers hovered over the keys to reply, just as
Speaker 1: my mind went to the practicalities. Amelia would be seying
Speaker 1: these names soon too. The urge to explain myself, to defend,
Speaker 1: to dissolve into the group and lose my shape was strong. Instead,
Speaker 1: I set the phone asigh. A few hours later, she
Speaker 1: messaged just a line. I'll come by tomorrow to get
Speaker 1: things and make this easier. Let me know if Max
Speaker 1: or anyone else's with you. I don't want it to
Speaker 1: be weird. The implications stung. We were coordinating a retreat,
Speaker 1: as if the last fight had been an overdrawn argument,
Speaker 1: nothing more. But what else was there to say? Find
Speaker 1: I sent back, fingers numb, text me before you come
Speaker 1: That night, maxic poster cracked open a cheap bottle of one.
Speaker 1: We ate in silence, the pot boiling and splattering on itself.
Speaker 1: I shouldn't have let it go this long, I said,
Speaker 1: as fixed on the wall. I knew months ago. I think,
Speaker 1: did every one know? He shook his head. No, just
Speaker 1: since something was up, you could come up for aer man,
Speaker 1: doesn't mean you're to blame. We drank quietly. A city
Speaker 1: ambulance whirled somewhat far below. I lay on a couch
Speaker 1: when he went to bed, arm over my eyes, counting
Speaker 1: the passing car's cataloging possibilities. Would she try to explain
Speaker 1: herself when we saw each other, Would she offer compromise,
Speaker 1: beg for a second chance, or would she simply split
Speaker 1: up our things, treating the last eight years like an
Speaker 1: asset to be liquidated. They're not knowing, twisted me, but
Speaker 1: I was too tired to plan. I fell into shall asleep,
Speaker 1: filled with half remembered gallery openings, laughter echoing down and
Speaker 1: familiar hallways. When I woke, the sum was prodding my face,
Speaker 1: and the city was already in full tolt. Mid morning,
Speaker 1: my phone buzzed again, in this time Amelia's number, ten
Speaker 1: minutes away. She wrote, as if we were coordinating a
Speaker 1: routine drop off, not a fault line running through our lives.
Speaker 1: I packed my bag, quietly, debating how much to be
Speaker 1: present for. I wanted to see her, to confront as
Speaker 1: much as to avoid. I texted a brief I'll be
Speaker 1: in the lobby. I didn't want her in Max's space,
Speaker 1: didn't want her in mine. She arrived, her poor back,
Speaker 1: no make up, I swollen, her coat, bunched in her arms,
Speaker 1: a canvas tored at her side. For a moment, we
Speaker 1: stared at each other, the entire weight of eight years
Speaker 1: balanced in the paes Hey, She said, voice splintered, I'll
Speaker 1: be quick. It all felt so impersonal, so unlike the
Speaker 1: thousand spontaneous reunions and drumas of our life together. The
Speaker 1: excited iPort picket, the exhausted flopping on the couch after work,
Speaker 1: the whole universe contained in half a share blanket, now
Speaker 1: just two people conducting business. We exchanged keys, said Little.
Speaker 1: She reached into her bag, fished out a jewelry case,
Speaker 1: placed it in my hand without a word. I realized
Speaker 1: it was the first sketch i'd ever bought from her,
Speaker 1: opening the one we baked out together. Ould joke about
Speaker 1: joint custodied of art. You should keep it, she murmured,
Speaker 1: wis gun threadber. I can't really look at it right now.
Speaker 1: I nodded, no words to answer the moment, hung there,
Speaker 1: wabbling between collapse and truce. She looked up, then studied
Speaker 1: my face, tears threatening. I can't say sorry enough. I
Speaker 1: tried to tell you a hundred times, but every time
Speaker 1: I just fell back into the line. I gripped the case,
Speaker 1: held my silence. I didn't intend cruelty, but nothing right
Speaker 1: had been left, and said back at the gallery, not really,
Speaker 1: She tried again, her ragged edge in her words. It
Speaker 1: wasn't about you, at least not at the beginning. I
Speaker 1: just I wanted more, and I should have come to you.
Speaker 1: I thought I was building something, but all I did
Speaker 1: was burn it down. A pot of me flickered, then
Speaker 1: recognition or maybe pity, but I let it pass. Take
Speaker 1: care of yourself, Emilia. She nodded the elevator chime. She entered,
Speaker 1: shoulder set, her sheep diminishing behind mirror doors. I stood
Speaker 1: in the lobby until I couldn't hear the whir of
Speaker 1: the cables any more. Back up stairs, Max asked no
Speaker 1: questions on the offered coffee. I took at arms cross
Speaker 1: heart beating a slow and familiar pattern. I fired off
Speaker 1: a single text to my boss, confirming I'd work remotely
Speaker 1: for the foreseeable future, and then sat staring at the
Speaker 1: city's grid, the noise and shimmer of a world I
Speaker 1: always considered mine. My phone pained cure, this time, asking
Speaker 1: if I was okay, if she could bring over soup,
Speaker 1: if I wanted to talk. I typed a brief thanks,
Speaker 1: maybe some time this week, and left it, grateful and
Speaker 1: numb at the same time. The hour stretch, I scrolled
Speaker 1: through my own old photos, us on the gallery floor,
Speaker 1: crowded in with friends, Amelia grinning up at me from
Speaker 1: beneath a flood of window light, the collection of a
Speaker 1: life now artifacts. I let myself look just long enough
Speaker 1: for the images to lose their heat, becoming pictures instead
Speaker 1: of proofs. A few messages from the building manager confirmed
Speaker 1: Amelia had packed some of her things and would stay
Speaker 1: with a colleague for a while. He asked if we
Speaker 1: wanted to formalize the condor arrangement, not yet, I sent back.
Speaker 1: Somewhere in the dusk, I realized it had spent the
Speaker 1: entire day moving from one edge of our life to another,
Speaker 1: never really touching the center of the place where it
Speaker 1: had all held together. Late that night, I found myself
Speaker 1: at Max's window again, city glowing beneath me, home a
Speaker 1: thumb print on the sky line. I consider texting Amelia
Speaker 1: some desperate last question or an angry demand for details.
Speaker 1: I'd never really want to know it, but I stopped
Speaker 1: final action, I told myself, and this time I meant it.
Speaker 1: I drafted a last note on my phone, the kind
Speaker 1: you send only when you except there's no fix coming.
Speaker 1: My thumb tapped out the words simple and true. I'm
Speaker 1: leaving the rest of your things box by the storach.
Speaker 1: I won't be back to the condo this month. Don't
Speaker 1: contact me unless it's urgent. I hits end. Then I
Speaker 1: let my phone fall silent. I watched the city until
Speaker 1: the night pressed through the windows. The world unchanged outside.
Speaker 1: My heart remained u stubbornly alive. Inside. The pain wasn't gone,
Speaker 1: but something had finally ended, a gravity, a permission, the
Speaker 1: belief that knowledge alone could hold love together. Trista Rode
Speaker 1: silently graned by grain until the final fracture. Is not
Speaker 1: a shout, but quite choice to walk away. When the
Speaker 1: sky began to pass all over the tallest buildings, I
Speaker 1: finished my coffee, set down the empty mug, and with
Speaker 1: nobody watching, stepped into the new day. And that is
Speaker 1: the end. Thank you for listening, and I will see
Speaker 1: you in the next one.