Speaker 1: The ice cubes and my wine glass had all but melted.
Speaker 1: They drink now more water than Sauvignon blanc, and the
Speaker 1: stem felt slick in my hand as I turned it
Speaker 1: on the linen tablecloth. The napkins were folded into improbable
Speaker 1: geometric fans. The arrangement of tapers flickered gently. There were
Speaker 1: hand lettered name cards at each place. Because I believed
Speaker 1: little gestures made ordinary week night philke theater. It didn't
Speaker 1: take much, just time in the right shade of ink,
Speaker 1: and ascends from me anyway that life deserved these rituals
Speaker 1: to night's dinner had been Eric's idea, and for days
Speaker 1: he angled for it, ribbing me when I wandered absurdly
Speaker 1: in hindsight, if our friends were too busy, if Thursday
Speaker 1: was too close a Friday to tempt anyone to linger
Speaker 1: over dessert in another bottle. Not everyone needs a strict calendar,
Speaker 1: he texted me from a small denue used as a studio,
Speaker 1: adding the smiling emoji, as if to tease me, You
Speaker 1: just make it look easy. Our friends love these nights.
Speaker 1: So when seven rolled round and the living room still
Speaker 1: echoed only with the clink of my glass, and a
Speaker 1: distant hum of traffic fifteen stories below. I couldn't quite
Speaker 1: decide if I was angry or disappointed. My phone lit
Speaker 1: up with Eric's name, Justice first, Eric, the way he'd
Speaker 1: said it never anything key to see, running late at
Speaker 1: the jazz bar with the client sorry, start with up,
Speaker 1: me will join soon. I stared at that message. Two
Speaker 1: years ago, Eric would have mentioned the client's name, or
Speaker 1: at least offered some passing detail. He would have said,
Speaker 1: running late, marks stuck in traffic, were reviewing his off
Speaker 1: ul posters, or still at that dive, Kate won't let
Speaker 1: me leave until she's finished her grand theory of Brandon.
Speaker 1: It used to amuse him, this parade of eccentric clients,
Speaker 1: and over time he'd crafted them into little characters for
Speaker 1: my benefit, like a private sitcom we watched together. Now
Speaker 1: just client, no names, no inside jokes, just a wary
Speaker 1: professional distance, as if I were one of his billable
Speaker 1: hours in a kitchen. I could hear the laugh of
Speaker 1: a neighbor, maybe Amanda, back from yoga, filtering through the pipes,
Speaker 1: the life of sales moving independently from us. If I
Speaker 1: were braver, I might have texted Eric right away, who
Speaker 1: is the client, or you promised you'd be here, or
Speaker 1: barbed something with just enough it to demand an explanation. Instead,
Speaker 1: I thought my phone typing and note worries see you soon,
Speaker 1: and almost said it to perform were racing the smiley face.
Speaker 1: I didn't want to see clingy or controlling or rhyme,
Speaker 1: embarrassed to even admit like someone trying to trap her
Speaker 1: husband into guilt, because isn't this what we always told
Speaker 1: each other, that we'd have the kind of marriage where
Speaker 1: freedom wasn't just permission, it was expected. The early days,
Speaker 1: we promised to warn each other if either of us
Speaker 1: felt like we were disappearing. Eric's word, not mine, a
Speaker 1: word he'd used in a dark downtown bow just after
Speaker 1: we started dating. Don't let me fade away, Jewels. If
Speaker 1: I start to disappear, we bring me back. I'd run
Speaker 1: my thumb over his knuckles and said I'd hunt ye
Speaker 1: down myself. That memory felt dangerously far away. To night,
Speaker 1: I was left watching condensations lie down the glass, hardly
Speaker 1: nudge between agitation and worry. Maybe I'd become too attached
Speaker 1: to routine to expect that everything would run on my rails.
Speaker 1: Maybe all this mint was Eric at alarm, over due
Speaker 1: actual client and business was finally picking up. Wasn't that
Speaker 1: what I wanted for him to thrive again after months
Speaker 1: of small frustrations and silent dinners, after all my gentle
Speaker 1: encouragements to get out say yes network. But the unfamiliar
Speaker 1: tone in his text, the clinical vagueness, hoed over the
Speaker 1: evening like a vapor. I tried to ignore it, but
Speaker 1: it clung to every other detail, the empty place setting,
Speaker 1: the hollow echo of the apartment, the way I held
Speaker 1: my phone counting the seconds between his messages. Didn't I
Speaker 1: want him to succeed, to have a life outside us?
Speaker 1: Or was I afraid unreasonably that I'd build a life
Speaker 1: only big enough for two? I told myself I'd wait,
Speaker 1: that I wouldn't push for details in a text, but
Speaker 1: whatever I felt could wait for the privacy of face
Speaker 1: to face. But the certainty had always carried fell for
Speaker 1: the first time in years, Like Stemmer and slick Hans, elegant, breakable,
Speaker 1: and never quite as stable as you believe. Eric and
Speaker 1: I had always been predictably compassible. As Quark's mesh with
Speaker 1: my structure, like interlocking gears, we fit. That was our
Speaker 1: public legend. It was true. Mostly most couples in our
Speaker 1: building had something of child, a dog, even matching bikes.
Speaker 1: In the lobby. We had each other and a kind
Speaker 1: of curated weekly ritual dinners. We hosted Envy in Juice
Speaker 1: in cheese plates that Instagram love but which really just
Speaker 1: suited our nervous energy. Frequent walks on Sundays to the
Speaker 1: flower Market. We were known for never missing an open
Speaker 1: house in the neighborhood, for inviting that one single neighbor
Speaker 1: who just moved to for quietly policing the condo bourg
Speaker 1: politics in our favor. It was an identity we wore,
Speaker 1: like tailored coatsmind literal. Eric met forhorcal We'd met in
Speaker 1: the gallery district. I was working a benefit for the
Speaker 1: design school Wrangle in schedules and seating charts, and Eric
Speaker 1: was one of the showing illustrators. So awkward at the
Speaker 1: open bar and so dryly funny once I coaxed him
Speaker 1: away from the crowds, our romance was almost insulting in
Speaker 1: its neatness. Within a year, we combined households, bought the
Speaker 1: Sunny condo, and found ourselves celebrated by older warrior couples
Speaker 1: for you two make it look effortless, but as if
Speaker 1: we had cracked a secret code. No kids on burbis.
Speaker 1: We rehearsed that line often enough. It was a fact,
Speaker 1: not an apology, and our social world adjusted around it.
Speaker 1: Impromptu holidays a way, no hard family time boundaries, room
Speaker 1: for promotion and changing careers in the luxury of last
Speaker 1: minute reservations. If there was a solid court to any plan,
Speaker 1: it was each other. Maybe that's why I had always
Speaker 1: been the mon anxious one, the planner who carried back
Speaker 1: up phone charges, an aspirin in the toad, whose Google
Speaker 1: calendar was sinks. Even with berties of people I didn't like.
Speaker 1: Eric called me the Chancellor some. Some times he did
Speaker 1: it to be sweet, sometimes to get out of making
Speaker 1: a decision. In return, I shored up his softer moves,
Speaker 1: those hums and sighs when a client delayed payment or
Speaker 1: a gallery passed on his latest series. I liked being predictable,
Speaker 1: like fixing things before they broke, even if secretly I
Speaker 1: wondered sometimes if I was just making routines to paper
Speaker 1: over uncertainty. The deal was we were supposed to be
Speaker 1: honest about it, We joked no vanishing acts if you
Speaker 1: were drowning wave. But lately it felt like Eric was
Speaker 1: treading deeper water, careful not to splash. He'd always been
Speaker 1: the homewardy, even as his professional life colored outside the lines.
Speaker 1: I'd play music in the background while he sketched at
Speaker 1: the kitchen table, his stack of Moleskine, spreading out into
Speaker 1: my territory, the pencil, that little sound. Jazz always as background,
Speaker 1: never the destination. The first time he left for a
Speaker 1: jazz bar, it was almost a parody. What's next, I teased,
Speaker 1: you'll have a bourbon and refer to yourself and the
Speaker 1: third person. He'd laughed and pulled me into his side,
Speaker 1: and for a moment I believe there was no space
Speaker 1: between us, that we were exactly as solid as we
Speaker 1: looked looking back. Maybe the cracks started then, or may
Speaker 1: I just learned to notice them. That Friday morning, I
Speaker 1: stood at the kitchen counter with my coffee, peering at
Speaker 1: our cloud calendar, an invitation from our friend's Nate, and
Speaker 1: Kim was missing. I was sure Eric had accepted weeks ago.
Speaker 1: He liked their apartment, their silly dog. They're speaking over
Speaker 1: each other banter. Now it was gone two other invitations
Speaker 1: to both ones. I'd seen him myself check yes, I
Speaker 1: scrolled back, canceled by ergar no explanation. He'd never been
Speaker 1: shy before about turning down invitations. If anything, he liked
Speaker 1: inventing elaborate explanations. I have to bleach my paint brushes,
Speaker 1: but we're in a polka dot face. Half to amuse himself,
Speaker 1: Half because he disliked offending people. Quietly deleting digital evidence
Speaker 1: was not his style. Erica maraged around lunchtime, yawning in
Speaker 1: sweatpints and a shirt that belonged more to my side
Speaker 1: of the closet than his, but rough night asked, trying
Speaker 1: to keep it light. He crashed on the couch here late, brainstorming,
Speaker 1: sorry I missed it in a marathon. His tone was casual,
Speaker 1: almost performative in its weariness. I wanted to add which
Speaker 1: client kept you out, but instead offered I hope he
Speaker 1: made an impression. It should have felt like playful ribbing.
Speaker 1: Instead it sounded like accusation. He just shrugged, kissed the
Speaker 1: top of my head, and wandered toward his office. I
Speaker 1: watched him go stomach nodded at my core. I found
Speaker 1: myself unsure whether I was being paranoid or simply resisting change.
Speaker 1: A few hours later, as I loaded the dishes, I
Speaker 1: heard him on the phone in the office. Not just
Speaker 1: typical business. Colsands's voice was hushed, but also animated, jifting
Speaker 1: up and down, as if he was trying to charm
Speaker 1: some one. I've recognized that pitch. He reserved it for
Speaker 1: inspiration or for when we were planning something fun, just
Speaker 1: the two of us. There was an unfamiliar phrase, can't
Speaker 1: wait same time as last night. The way he said
Speaker 1: it made me stop drawing a wineglass midstroke. There was
Speaker 1: laughter on the other end. I waited, frozen, but all
Speaker 1: I heard was the squeak of his chair and the
Speaker 1: low scrape of a window being opened. By the time
Speaker 1: I tiptoed by, a call was over. The room felt stuffy,
Speaker 1: and Nerek was lost in a sketch book headphones on.
Speaker 1: I retreated, feeling like an interloper in my own home.
Speaker 1: For the rest of the afternoon, I did not check
Speaker 1: his messages, though I'll admit the urge was real, burning
Speaker 1: at the base of my neck. I wanted to trust
Speaker 1: that was the deal, wasn't it? No vanishing acts? Instead
Speaker 1: I reasoned with myself. Maybe this is what success looks like,
Speaker 1: after a long dreath, a rush of creative energy, a
Speaker 1: flood of new clients, fresh faces. Maybe I'd simply grown
Speaker 1: too settled, too insistent on routine, and Eric was finally
Speaker 1: finding his own path. Wasn't this what people always warned
Speaker 1: about with marriage? Then you become so in mesh you
Speaker 1: can't tell reasonable independence from real distance. That night, Er
Speaker 1: crashed early, complaining of a headache. He lay beside me inert,
Speaker 1: as though he'd already packed his mind for somewhere else.
Speaker 1: I lay the feeling childish for wanting him to ask
Speaker 1: about my day, or even to wish me good night
Speaker 1: with more than a grunt in the dark. Her breath
Speaker 1: did not synchronize. It was almost noon the next day
Speaker 1: when our neighbor, a man to, caught me near the elevator. Hey, Julia,
Speaker 1: did Arkala everything okay? That was weird not seeing him
Speaker 1: at Scott's party last night. Tell him not to disappear
Speaker 1: on us, She grinned, only half joking, and in that moment,
Speaker 1: for the first time, I felt a pin prick of
Speaker 1: something sharper than dad. I mumbled some excuse a late work.
Speaker 1: He knew freelancers and ducked into the elevator, eyes on
Speaker 1: my phone. I felt myself flush, embarrassment, and something angry
Speaker 1: tangling in my chest. Amanda wasn't prying, or not intentionally,
Speaker 1: but her question stuck with me. A bar Erica told
Speaker 1: me he was working all night. The calendar said a
Speaker 1: meeting priority. He used to plan outfits for nights out
Speaker 1: with these neighbors, and now he was quietly withdrawing back upstairs.
Speaker 1: The mail on the hallway table caught my eye, a
Speaker 1: crisp white envelope from our credit card company. Out of
Speaker 1: pay statements usually forgettable except for the bull face all
Speaker 1: out potentially duplicate transaction. I set my phone down and
Speaker 1: opened the app, expecting some restaurant hecup. Instead I saw
Speaker 1: the Blue Land and Jazzbartu guests twelve freeem the time
Speaker 1: alone made my skin prickle. He told me, gruffly but convincingly,
Speaker 1: that he left early because the client was a dub,
Speaker 1: not worth another drink, and he wanted to get a
Speaker 1: jump star on sketches. The receipt at midnight said otherwise,
Speaker 1: two guests. The question caught in my throat. By now
Speaker 1: I had learned how easy it was to feel both
Speaker 1: parent and justified at once. I spent the afternoon fussing
Speaker 1: with emails and imaginary groceries, waiting for Eric to emerge
Speaker 1: from his cave. When he did, I tried to shape
Speaker 1: the conversation with surgical care a man to mention you
Speaker 1: weren't a Scots, I said, offering the bait lightly. Eric's
Speaker 1: face took on a peculiar stiffness, almost like it physically
Speaker 1: hurt him to smile. I told you, I work late.
Speaker 1: The deadline is crushing me. The speed and force of
Speaker 1: the answer were unusual. He didn't meet my eyes. I
Speaker 1: thought about showing him the receipt, the bank notification, but
Speaker 1: I didn't. I wanted to observe a little longer, to
Speaker 1: see if he would circle back on his own. Instead,
Speaker 1: he stood up, stretched and escaped into the other room.
Speaker 1: Every time I reached for my phone that weekend, my
Speaker 1: thumb hovered on the edge of his messages, locked behind
Speaker 1: his own pass Good now another recent shift. I told
Speaker 1: myself this was truss, that it would be a greater
Speaker 1: betrayal to Snoop, that if I started down that path,
Speaker 1: I'd never feel like I'd earned honesty again. But underneath that,
Speaker 1: some animal part of me age to know to see
Speaker 1: to rip the band aid off and deal with the blood.
Speaker 1: On Sunday, I suggested we use the new restaurant credit
Speaker 1: from a counciled booking and make a week end of it,
Speaker 1: get out of the city, reconnect. He frowned, and something
Speaker 1: pain flickered over his features. I can't next week is swamped, really, Jewels.
Speaker 1: I need the space to breathe right now, I overcompensated chirping.
Speaker 1: Of course, if you focus on work, I'll have my
Speaker 1: own little adventure. He looked grateful, which only made me
Speaker 1: feel worse. That afternoon, I met Kim for coffee at
Speaker 1: the little patio outside Mercer Market, the only place who
Speaker 1: may wagh you could give real sun and not feel crowded.
Speaker 1: Kim scrolled through her phone while waiting for her iso
Speaker 1: at Latte. Half Way through, she snorted, wait, you don't
Speaker 1: follow Eric's new account. My brain's snap to attention? What? No?
Speaker 1: Which one? She held up her phone, a new Instagram
Speaker 1: handle private with maybe twenty followers. She scrolled through the story.
Speaker 1: The blurry photo of the blue lantern captioned lost Call
Speaker 1: or the start of something that photo posted last night
Speaker 1: at the bar. I wasn't tagged. None of our mutual
Speaker 1: friends will follow. His only names I vaguely recognized from
Speaker 1: his recent projects. He never mentioned this, I managed, smiling tightly.
Speaker 1: My mind reeled. Why open a private count and why
Speaker 1: not include me? Back home, I diptoed around Eric, who
Speaker 1: had taken over the living room with loose sketches and invses.
Speaker 1: Twice I heard him on the phone on's murmuring, let's
Speaker 1: keep it low key. Don't worry, she'll never know another time.
Speaker 1: We need to wrap things by tomorrow. Both coals ended abruptly.
Speaker 1: When I entered. He wouldn't look at me, just pointedly
Speaker 1: wiped his glasses and asked for errands. I tried to
Speaker 1: laugh it off, to force some normalcy, but the words
Speaker 1: wouldn't come. Later that night, sorting laundry, I found the
Speaker 1: box from a local jewelry store in the bottom of
Speaker 1: his backpack. I braced myself. Maybe it was for me,
Speaker 1: but my birthday had already passed. Our anniversary to the
Speaker 1: box was empty, The re seat dated three weeks prior.
Speaker 1: We hadn't celebrated anything that day. I folded his shirt
Speaker 1: too neatly staring at the floor. Was I inventing patterns,
Speaker 1: seeing shadows where there was just noise? Or was something
Speaker 1: genuinely wrong? A phone call broke the silence. Eric's sister Caroline,
Speaker 1: her voice tight, barely hiding nerves, jewels rorry just to
Speaker 1: have you heard from Eric? He's not replying, and Dad's
Speaker 1: asking if you guys are okay? We're fine. He's swamped.
Speaker 1: I lied, it just works stuff. She hesitated. He seems
Speaker 1: I don't know on ede whenebring up home. It's probably nothing.
Speaker 1: If you need anything, call me ok. My heart thumped.
Speaker 1: I felt her concern impressing at the ages of my
Speaker 1: own fears. That night, at dinner, I asked Eric more directly,
Speaker 1: are you unhappy? Is there something going on? Questions startled
Speaker 1: both of us. He looked up sunken night and forced
Speaker 1: a thin smile. Freelance is just overwhelming. I'll be better
Speaker 1: once I finished this cycle. You know Howard is feast
Speaker 1: of famine. He tried to reach for my hand, but
Speaker 1: I could feel the distance radiating through his touch, a
Speaker 1: cold spot where a warm should have been. I squeezed,
Speaker 1: holding on as if it might anchor both of us.
Speaker 1: The days passed, routines quietly unraveling. He said no to
Speaker 1: dinners out, even with our closest friends. I watched our
Speaker 1: sheared world shrink Amanda corner of me in the lobby again, Eric,
Speaker 1: mistervi Knight too. Tell him I'll start spreading rumors. I laughed, too, loudly,
Speaker 1: chicking my head. The effort it took to keep up
Speaker 1: the appearance of us suddenly exhausting in our social world.
Speaker 1: Absence felt more suspicious than any rumor. A week later,
Speaker 1: I accidentally dropped by the blue lantern, the jazz bar
Speaker 1: Eric claimed to be working at. I wore my best
Speaker 1: casual Danton armor tailor Jean's boots, that red orange sweater
Speaker 1: he used to call my lucky shirt. I waited by
Speaker 1: the entry, feigning confusion as asked the bartender for Eric
Speaker 1: booth in the back, he said easily, with the air
Speaker 1: of some one who knew this scene far better than
Speaker 1: I did. There was Eric, and across from him Lorna,
Speaker 1: the event planner I had met at our party months earlier.
Speaker 1: Tall Shaw bengled with a cascading laugh that made head's turn.
Speaker 1: They were leaning and talking, and immediately over drinks A
Speaker 1: half eaten plate between them. They saw me before I
Speaker 1: reached them. Eric's face went slack for a split second,
Speaker 1: just long enough for doubt to flore, but then he
Speaker 1: plastered on the smile the jewels. He called, standing, what
Speaker 1: are you doing here? I fumbled, thought I'd surprise you
Speaker 1: needed a break. Hope that's okay, he rilled himself and
Speaker 1: quickly waving me to sit. You remember Lorna right, She's
Speaker 1: got this wild new any project wants me to help
Speaker 1: her brand her business. Lana reached up her bangled on
Speaker 1: clinking and squeezed my hand. Eric's a genius. He's got
Speaker 1: these ideas for my event launch that are going to
Speaker 1: blow every one away. She beamed genuinely, as if she
Speaker 1: had nothing to hide. I smiled tightly. They included me
Speaker 1: in a toaes introducing me to the Bottander as the
Speaker 1: brain's in the family. For half an hour, I was
Speaker 1: folded into the bantertoue of logo redesigns color palettes where
Speaker 1: the best jazz acts were booked this season. Lanna turned
Speaker 1: to me with sudden intensity. You should help. I'm hopeless
Speaker 1: with the guest list. You're the master. It all felt
Speaker 1: on the surface innocuous, almost innocent. If anything, I felt
Speaker 1: foolish for having doubted. They seemed comfortable confidante, willing to
Speaker 1: loot me in. When Lawna excused herself to the restroom,
Speaker 1: Eric offered a sheepish little laugh. Sorry, I've been distant,
Speaker 1: It's just a phase works blowing up. He squeezed my knee,
Speaker 1: an affectionate gesture with just enough force that I almost
Speaker 1: forgave him. He even suggested I come out for drinks
Speaker 1: with them next time an olive branch. You should see
Speaker 1: Lorna in action. She's got stories. I nodded, managing a
Speaker 1: real smile. For a few hours, life were calibrated. I
Speaker 1: felt lighter, even embarrassed at my own suspicion. The next morning,
Speaker 1: Lorna messaged me, Hey, Juliet just wanted to clear the air.
Speaker 1: Hope there were no hard feelings about the late night
Speaker 1: brainstorms with Eric. He mentioned you get a little lanches
Speaker 1: when his female client, dear lovely would duk collaborating some time.
Speaker 1: The message landed like a stone. I read it four times.
Speaker 1: Eric was telling people I was anxious, maybe controlling, planting
Speaker 1: the seed that if asked questions, it was my issue.
Speaker 1: My insecurity. I stared at the ceiling and wondered which
Speaker 1: version of the story would be believed mine or the
Speaker 1: careful pr Eric was spinning for the world. Suddenly the
Speaker 1: threat wasn't just an affair, but the slow, methodical erosion
Speaker 1: of trust. If he was recruiting allies, how far would
Speaker 1: it go? That evening, over a dinner of left of hers,
Speaker 1: I watched how Eric exted under the table, how he
Speaker 1: didn't ask me about my day, how he jerked about
Speaker 1: work but made no mention of Lanna, of our collaboration.
Speaker 1: The silence felt strategic, not accidental. The next week I
Speaker 1: crafted a polite excuse to call Lorna under the pretense
Speaker 1: of needing a reference for one of her for a
Speaker 1: presentation at my own firm. Of course, she said, breezily,
Speaker 1: and thanks again for being chill about the other night
Speaker 1: at the hotel after the jazz set, God those one
Speaker 1: ambran swarms a brutal but at least there's room service.
Speaker 1: Right the world solid sideways, the words echoing hotel after
Speaker 1: the ja set, of course, I replied, voice wobbling only slightly.
Speaker 1: The coal ended with plans for coffee. I hung up
Speaker 1: and nearly dropped my phone. I stared at our joint
Speaker 1: bank's statement. There rose and rows of late night hotel bookings,
Speaker 1: always on Wednesdays and Fridays, always with reference codes to
Speaker 1: the same few high end hotels in walking distance of
Speaker 1: the blue lantern? Had I noticed before? Had I missed
Speaker 1: the clues or simply trained myself to look away? When
Speaker 1: Eric came home that night, I could barely meet his eyes.
Speaker 1: He noticed. He brushed my shoulder, asking gently, you okay?
Speaker 1: I nodded, cheeks flushing with humiliation. At dinner, I pushed
Speaker 1: my folk around the plate, measuring my words. What's with
Speaker 1: the hotel charges lately? I asked, voice neutral. He stiffened,
Speaker 1: then too hard, stayed over a couple times safer than driving.
Speaker 1: Hum tank to trust me, He rolled his eyes, daring
Speaker 1: me to challenge the story. Was any one with you?
Speaker 1: He bristle's voice rising. What now We're policing every receipt,
Speaker 1: Julia and killing myself for this portfolio? Can't I have
Speaker 1: a night's piece? He stood abruptly stormed off to his
Speaker 1: office door a thudding shut. The anger the heat in
Speaker 1: his face wasn't just about exhaustion. It was about being
Speaker 1: discovered my hands trembled as I loaded the dishwasher. Had
Speaker 1: I truly been this woefully blind? The next morning, a
Speaker 1: man caught me in the laundry room. She looked cautious,
Speaker 1: almost apologetic. It's not my business, but I saw Eric
Speaker 1: and Lorna coming out together yesterday early, like before seven.
Speaker 1: He said he was just helping haul her files for
Speaker 1: some event, but her eyes linger searching my face for
Speaker 1: any signal to keep going. I thanked her as coolly
Speaker 1: as I could manage, and walked shakily upstairs. In my
Speaker 1: inbox a message from lawna brisk, clipped, almost defensive look juliar.
Speaker 1: I know it looks weird, but Eric and I have
Speaker 1: been seeing each other for a while. He didn't mean
Speaker 1: for anyone to get hurt. Maybe it's better you hear
Speaker 1: it from me. I sat alone by the window all afternoon,
Speaker 1: the city a shimmering in different sequence of recting gulls.
Speaker 1: At some point Eric texted that he was working late.
Speaker 1: Don't wait up. The words blurred everything that had made
Speaker 1: since the calendar at the jokey texts, the Sunday rituals
Speaker 1: now reappeared as ghostly evidence, added Alban This obvious from
Speaker 1: the start, were only clear in retrospect. I felt sick, relieve,
Speaker 1: and surprisingly angry, not just for the affair, but for
Speaker 1: the months of stories, the strategic isolation, the deliberate warping
Speaker 1: of our routine to make me the suspicious one, Lona's confession,
Speaker 1: a man as gentle warnings to receipts, the calls all converged.
Speaker 1: That night. Eric came home to find me in the kitchen.
Speaker 1: My hands celt tight round a mug of and touched tea.
Speaker 1: We need to talk, I said, and my voice was
Speaker 1: so steady it shocked us. Both His eyes scattered toward
Speaker 1: my phone, the pile of receipts. He opened his mouth,
Speaker 1: shut it, and shifted from foot to foot. I deserve honesty,
Speaker 1: I said quietly. He frowned to fence and as already
Speaker 1: thickening in his draw. But I wasn't going to let
Speaker 1: him disappe hear, not into excuses, not into his secrets.
Speaker 1: I promise years ago not to let him fade away.
Speaker 1: Even now, standing at the brink, I owed myself at
Speaker 1: least that much. Eric didn't answer right away. His hands
Speaker 1: hovered at his pockets the weight they did when he'd
Speaker 1: lost his keys were prepared for an argument. He hadn't
Speaker 1: practiced for a moment. It almost softened me, if almost,
Speaker 1: But the edge under my skin was sharper than pity.
Speaker 1: I didn't want to save him from discomfort, not this time.
Speaker 1: He looked at me, then away, fixing on an old
Speaker 1: water stay near the baseboard. O K, he said, dragging
Speaker 1: the word out. Talk about what you want to hear,
Speaker 1: how the portfolio is going a cowardly opening. But I
Speaker 1: stayed still. You know exactly what I mean. Don't make
Speaker 1: me spell it out. He finally met my eyes. I
Speaker 1: was struck, not for the first time, by how quickly
Speaker 1: someone you love could grow unrecognizable. The way shadows collected
Speaker 1: in the lines around his mouth, the twitch of impatience
Speaker 1: that had nothing to do with tiredness, Juliet, if you
Speaker 1: were going to accuse me of something, Jewett, I'm too
Speaker 1: tired for a witch hunt. The phrase made my chest seize.
Speaker 1: I'd been careful, so careful, never to let accusation be
Speaker 1: my weapon, but suddenly it seemed that's the only language left.
Speaker 1: I remembered mornings spent stacking plates for brunch, the half
Speaker 1: kisses over coffee as of trying to keep a spell going.
Speaker 1: How had we ended up in this posture? Both braced
Speaker 1: for impact behind our own barricades. Lawna texted me to day.
Speaker 1: My voice was low, almost clinical. She mentioned hotel brainstorms
Speaker 1: last week. She assumed I knew. Tell me the truth. Eric.
Speaker 1: He blinked something almost like fear, flickering behind his eyes.
Speaker 1: We were late jewels, the projector. He sopped himself, visibly recalibrating.
Speaker 1: Sometimes it goes past midnight. It's easier to keep the
Speaker 1: momentum and crash nearby than waste time driving. But you
Speaker 1: never said there were hotels for that. The projects involved
Speaker 1: late nights outside the studio. I angled my phone toward him.
Speaker 1: The thumb mail of the bank's statement boled between us.
Speaker 1: He told me you were at home. You left before
Speaker 1: dinner to meet a client and came back at sunrise.
Speaker 1: He stepped back, pressing against the counter edge. You want
Speaker 1: the truth. The truth is I'm trying to build something
Speaker 1: because you want me to land real clients, and frankly,
Speaker 1: I get tired of reporting every move to you, like comeons'suparole.
Speaker 1: It hurt. The suggestion that Ker was surveillance still oppressed
Speaker 1: on voice trembling but steady. A man to saw you
Speaker 1: with Lanna or early morning outside more than once. And
Speaker 1: the jewelry he bought something. Did you give that to her?
Speaker 1: He scoffed the sound bridle. You were reading into things.
Speaker 1: It was for a project, a giveaway, for a client's event.
Speaker 1: You want receipts, they're yours. I wanted to believe him.
Speaker 1: I wanted the details to collapse under scrutiny, revealed themselves
Speaker 1: as boring and harmless, convolute, a proof of nothing. But
Speaker 1: I had reached the secret tip in point to win suspicion.
Speaker 1: Once a shadow now stood in the middle of the
Speaker 1: room between us. The timer on the oven beat a
Speaker 1: code only I could decipher, signaling cookie I've forgotten, and
Speaker 1: the rush to acknrmal but I let them burn. Eric hesitated,
Speaker 1: then retreated into the den, slamming the door. I stood frozen,
Speaker 1: hearing his muffled cursing and the shuffling of papers, probably
Speaker 1: for show. I remembered when my heart used to race
Speaker 1: at the sound of his approached. Now it thudded, cold
Speaker 1: and defaul holding the fort while the enemy circled. That night,
Speaker 1: after a silence, so thick, I thought it might suffocate
Speaker 1: us both. I attacked Kim. Nothing beyond a busy tomorrow
Speaker 1: for coffee. I needed some one who remembered who we
Speaker 1: used to be for rop. I came back within minutes
Speaker 1: Mercer market noon. He o K. I didn't answer. I
Speaker 1: wasn't ready for witnesses. The following day, the apartment felt cavinous,
Speaker 1: no jazz, no humming. Eric had vanished, said he was
Speaker 1: heading directly to the studio, barely making eye contact as
Speaker 1: he rushed past. I wandered the kitchen, opening drawers, ladding.
Speaker 1: My hands rest on the well worn grain of our table,
Speaker 1: proof of our years woven into grooves. I stared at
Speaker 1: our shared calendar again. More events disappeared, a couple's wine club, book,
Speaker 1: night with the Maanda, and half the building. Every trace
Speaker 1: of our social life before the Season of Secrets systematically
Speaker 1: edited out of existence, as if our routine was an
Speaker 1: obsolete software and compatible with his new operation. Over coffee
Speaker 1: with Kim, my own nerves felt as obvious as a
Speaker 1: tear in my shirt. She scanned my face. I brows raised.
Speaker 1: She fiddled with her keys the way she did when
Speaker 1: waiting for a medical verdict, but afraid to ask the
Speaker 1: question herself. Everything good, she ventured. At last, I let
Speaker 1: silence answer from me. Finally, do you think people change
Speaker 1: as quickly? She looked away. Sometimes, I mean people get
Speaker 1: weird about work, or I dunno, maybe something's up. You
Speaker 1: don't have to explain, But people notice things, Julia, he'd
Speaker 1: two are always together. She dressed the word with careful irony.
Speaker 1: Always until now. I said, he's working late a lot
Speaker 1: with Lorna. You remember her. She nodded, quick and cautious,
Speaker 1: the way people do when a story is about to turn.
Speaker 1: I didn't add more. Maybe I wanted her to tell
Speaker 1: me I was of reacting, but she didn't want me
Speaker 1: to poke around subtle I promise her loyalty felt like
Speaker 1: someone pressing on a bruise. I shook my head back.
Speaker 1: At home that evening, I searched the drawers for the
Speaker 1: Dewey box again, half certain i'd find it hidden in
Speaker 1: some different place. Instead, I found the receipts still in
Speaker 1: the pocket of his jacket, A gentle down in detail,
Speaker 1: as if he'd stopped trying to hide things properly. Two
Speaker 1: cocky or two careless to finish the cover up. Eric
Speaker 1: came home just as I was refolding the jacket, looking
Speaker 1: for something. His voice flirted with accusation, just laundry. My
Speaker 1: tone didn't convince either of us. He dropped his messenger
Speaker 1: back with a kind of finality, kicking off his shoes,
Speaker 1: inadvertently sending a business card skittering under the counter. I
Speaker 1: leaned over to pick it up. Blue foil lettering Lona Henderson,
Speaker 1: a vent in p R on the back, A line
Speaker 1: sculled in Eric's distinctive block printed seven thirty. Just us
Speaker 1: go wild. My stomach nodded. He didn't notice me holding it.
Speaker 1: He'd be aligned for the shower. I sat the card
Speaker 1: on the counter and stared at the invitation, the suggestion
Speaker 1: of intimacy, too little, too cawless. Later I heard him
Speaker 1: on the phone again. The door to the bathroom cracked
Speaker 1: enough for voices to slide out over the tiles. Yeah,
Speaker 1: same spot, she suspects something. Just don't overdo it, O K.
Speaker 1: A pause, then laughter, low, an intimate No, I'll take
Speaker 1: care of it. The water started up, full blast, swallowing
Speaker 1: the rest. At midnight, unable to sleep, I padded out
Speaker 1: to the living room. Checked our banksap again. Another hotel charge,
Speaker 1: same brand, this time of the bar tab attached. The
Speaker 1: time stamp was from a night Erec could come home
Speaker 1: with the faintest whiff of puffy on his collar. One
Speaker 1: eight and Lana's favorite, I realized from our first and
Speaker 1: now ironical operation. By now my mind was churning with
Speaker 1: angry energy. I couldn't keep chasing shadows inside our walls.
Speaker 1: I needed real answers, more than sly confrontation or veiled delusions.
Speaker 1: I needed a witness outside my own mind. I scrolled
Speaker 1: through photos on my phone, landing on one from a
Speaker 1: dinner party months before. The three of us glasses rays.
Speaker 1: Lona's elbow draped over Eric's shoulder, my own smile stretched
Speaker 1: a bit too tightly. I'd always thought the tension in
Speaker 1: that photo was directed at me, my competitiveness, my urge
Speaker 1: to prove my place, Now if it seemed an art
Speaker 1: of fact, a hint I hadn't seen. The following day,
Speaker 1: I left work early, unable to stare at spreadsheets of
Speaker 1: faint composure any longer. Instead of heading home, I circled
Speaker 1: the block near Eric's jasbar, counting cause, pretending aimlessness. At
Speaker 1: ten after seven, I watched Lona arrive alone, perfectly put
Speaker 1: together her phone out, sending a quick text before she
Speaker 1: slipped into the bar. Less than ten minutes later, Eric appeared,
Speaker 1: glancing around as though he was being tailed, then ducked
Speaker 1: in himself, moving smoothly rehearsed. I wandered toward the windough,
Speaker 1: pressing close, careful not to catch any one's eye. The
Speaker 1: scene inside could have been two business partners, but the
Speaker 1: comfortable proximity, the way air glaughed and brushed her hand.
Speaker 1: Mid's story belonged to another script. I photographed the moment,
Speaker 1: then felt immediately sick for Juliet, like I was producing
Speaker 1: evidence for a trial. I didn't want to prosecute, but
Speaker 1: a deep perverse drive inside me whisper save everything, all
Speaker 1: these moll indictments. The following morning, I received a group
Speaker 1: text from Amanda, meant for Off Floor's wine club. Shall
Speaker 1: we do Jaz's night again, Julia, you bring Eric this time?
Speaker 1: Or do we have to lure him out with Lona.
Speaker 1: I stared at the message, reading between a lazy humor,
Speaker 1: wondering how many people had built their own stories around
Speaker 1: us already? Was I the last to Novis? I answered,
Speaker 1: brief and civil. It depends on his deadline. I suppose,
Speaker 1: Amanda responded quickly, If deadline means drinks with Lonna, don't
Speaker 1: let us cramp his style. I felt suddenly exposed. One
Speaker 1: had the boundary between friend and ryer vanished? Was everyone
Speaker 1: watching waiting to see what version of the story would win?
Speaker 1: That night, in bed, Eric reached for me for the
Speaker 1: the first time in weeks, his touch awkward, hands moving
Speaker 1: as if he was checking for a pulse. I let him,
Speaker 1: but I couldn't in clench, couldn't pretend to be the
Speaker 1: person he seemed interested in so rarely nowadays. Afterward, he
Speaker 1: sighed not contentment but resignation, and rolled over. I lay awake,
Speaker 1: bolt straight, every sense brittle, wondering if this, too would
Speaker 1: Sunday feel like evidence. On a grim wim, I decided
Speaker 1: to check the guest pass logs our buildings forgotten comfort.
Speaker 1: The records were digital, tied to our unit. Most were
Speaker 1: bland deliveries, the cleaning service a neighbor's cousin, but Lorna's
Speaker 1: name appeared three times in the past month, all during
Speaker 1: hours when I had been at work, all signed in
Speaker 1: by Eric, no note, no purpose listed, the time stamp daytime,
Speaker 1: not just late nights. A pattern. It was when I
Speaker 1: scrolled through my work calendar, noting those same afternoons, that
Speaker 1: the timing snapped into raise of clarity. Meetings I'd mentioned
Speaker 1: days in advance, always a two hour gap before Eric
Speaker 1: would text, don't hurry home, I ordered in. I printed
Speaker 1: the locks, folded them, and tucked them with my other
Speaker 1: artifact's receipts, texts, the business card. I felt dangerous, cruel,
Speaker 1: but also alive in a way I hadn't a months.
Speaker 1: There's no dignity in suspicion, but there is power in certainty.
Speaker 1: The following day, midway through an energeless lunch at home,
Speaker 1: Carolyn called me again, her voice low, Jules, I tried
Speaker 1: Eric again. He answered once, said he was busy, there's
Speaker 1: something really wrong. Her concern was a pressure I wasn't
Speaker 1: ready for. I hesitated, I think he's going through something.
Speaker 1: Don't worry. I'll tell him to call. Before she hung up,
Speaker 1: Caroline added, you choo, it's not just work, is it.
Speaker 1: That question sat between us like a small, shriveled animal,
Speaker 1: almost too pitiful to touch. I didn't answer directly. Afterwards, connected,
Speaker 1: I found myself crying. No great salt more than stoppable
Speaker 1: leak at the corners, a prosachic for all the stories
Speaker 1: we carried, the way the world outside seems so sure
Speaker 1: of us. By twilight I was done plain defense. Eric
Speaker 1: came home, already on a call, gesturing at me to
Speaker 1: stay out as he paced a living room. I busied
Speaker 1: myself with dinner, scraping carrots by the window, the city
Speaker 1: blinking awake, the taste of metal in my mouth. He
Speaker 1: finally hung up and stood there, unsure whether to join
Speaker 1: a retreat. What's for dinner, he asked Tom falsely. Light
Speaker 1: I faced him, hand steady and spoke clearly. You need
Speaker 1: to tell me, Eric, You need to tell me about
Speaker 1: you and Launa, about the hotels, about everything, Without another lie.
Speaker 1: He dropped into a chairs of pollax, fingers pinching the
Speaker 1: bridge of his nose. Jesus, Jewels, you've built a whole
Speaker 1: fantasy here. Work is in neat. Not these days do
Speaker 1: you think I have time for conspiracies. Every muscle in
Speaker 1: my jawel clenched. A man that saw you, Kim, saw
Speaker 1: your private instagram. I've seen the charges, and Lorna told
Speaker 1: me herself, saying her name Outlauds traded something inside me
Speaker 1: like voicing a curse I couldn't take back. He looked
Speaker 1: at me, one part fury, one part to spare. You
Speaker 1: want reasons. Maybe home got too tight, Maybe I needed
Speaker 1: a win, Maybe I needed to feel like someone wanted
Speaker 1: me just for who I am, not as part of
Speaker 1: a routine. He choked on the word for a second.
Speaker 1: He wasn't a villain, but a terrified, lonely man. I
Speaker 1: felt mine sides hollow, a strange petty, leaking him with
Speaker 1: the devastation. Why not talk to me, I asked quietly.
Speaker 1: He didn't answer. I stood, voice shaking. You can't keep
Speaker 1: doing this, not to me, not to ask. You need
Speaker 1: to go take what you need. Don't come back to night.
Speaker 1: I need space, that's only mine, Julie. Don't make it total.
Speaker 1: I messed up. I'm not saying I didn't, But don't
Speaker 1: keep me out of our life. Don't burn it down.
Speaker 1: But I was already standing, already gone somewhere. He could
Speaker 1: not follow. He stared at the floor, mouth working as
Speaker 1: if to summon all our shared history for a closing argument.
Speaker 1: But my endurance was spent. I let the silence pull
Speaker 1: out between us, stronger than any words, more honest, than
Speaker 1: any apology either of us wanted to invent. Eric stood
Speaker 1: in the middle of the kitchen, keys in his hand,
Speaker 1: shifting his weight from foot to foot under the yellow
Speaker 1: kitchen light. Neither of us moved for a long moment.
Speaker 1: I waited for him to make a grand gesture, some
Speaker 1: final bid for forgiveness, or maybe just a satisfying fit
Speaker 1: of anger. But it was clear that whatever drama had
Speaker 1: driven him these last months had burned itself out. He
Speaker 1: looked stunned, almost flimsy, swallowed up by the kind of
Speaker 1: silence that made the earthach my jaw ache from holding
Speaker 1: it tight. I wanted to scream. Instead, I busied myself
Speaker 1: wiping down the now spotless counters trembling. I heard Eric's
Speaker 1: shuffle back toward the den, then stop short, like he'd
Speaker 1: forgotten what he was supposed to be doing. His form
Speaker 1: buzzed on the table. He let it rain. I started
Speaker 1: to speak, but the words dried up before they reached
Speaker 1: my lips. He finally made his way down the hall,
Speaker 1: grabbed an overnight bag from the closet, started tossing and
Speaker 1: clothes without so much as looking at what he chose.
Speaker 1: The zipper caught he muttered something I couldn't hear. I
Speaker 1: stood in the kitchen, arms crossed, vibrating with all the
Speaker 1: things I hadn't said. The bowl of fruit sat on
Speaker 1: the table, waxy apples reflecting the pendulum of the light,
Speaker 1: fixed her groceries, and touched from a week ago, intended
Speaker 1: for the next dinner party. From the hallway came the
Speaker 1: sound of drawers opening and closing. Every ordinary sound felt
Speaker 1: final out the creak of the linen chest, the mechanical
Speaker 1: wine of the suit case wheels, the thunk of his
Speaker 1: shoes against the tile. I kept waiting for the escalation,
Speaker 1: a last argument, a desperate apology, but none came. Instead,
Speaker 1: there was only the business of leaving, a checklist of
Speaker 1: necessities toothbrush, charging cables, socks and smatched and thrown together.
Speaker 1: Eric re emerged, begg slung over his show. He paused
Speaker 1: by the front door, hesitated, as if about to say something,
Speaker 1: maybe one of our old codid phrases, some private cue
Speaker 1: to call off the fight. But I stood straight ahead.
Speaker 1: He shifted his stance, swallowing hard, I'll be in touch.
Speaker 1: I get at space. His voice was almost a question,
Speaker 1: a sharp bit. A part of me wanted to give
Speaker 1: him instructions for once to take back all the permissiveness
Speaker 1: had wrapped this crumbling marriage in Instead, I replied quietly,
Speaker 1: you should let your sister know you're okay. She's worried.
Speaker 1: He nodded, but linger, waiting, perhaps for me to ask
Speaker 1: him to stay, or to promise something about the future.
Speaker 1: I couldn't. He glanced away, faced partly hidden into him.
Speaker 1: I really am sorry, Jules. The elevated bell down the
Speaker 1: hall child and the moment snapped. I watched as he
Speaker 1: stepped into the courridor, and, after a pause, let the
Speaker 1: door close behind him with a soft but certain click.
Speaker 1: The condo felt vacuumed, a sound of weight, of movement,
Speaker 1: not my own. My body refused to shiver. I checked
Speaker 1: the locks twice. The old habit stronger than my sense
Speaker 1: of betrayal. His absence rattled through the rooms, settling into
Speaker 1: the places where our routines once overlapped. The table still
Speaker 1: bore two place settings. My name card droot near the
Speaker 1: puddled glass. I collected them without thinking, hands steady, and
Speaker 1: slid both into the recycling bin. The next phase settled
Speaker 1: on me with the smother and clarity. I had to
Speaker 1: inform the outside world, manage the perceptions, protect the story,
Speaker 1: will at least keep it from spiraling out of my control.
Speaker 1: I texted Kim and Amander, brief and bloodless, Eric taking
Speaker 1: time away to decompress, pem fine, just needs some quiet,
Speaker 1: will be off for a while. Each message was read
Speaker 1: within minutes. Replies buzz in a blur of emojis, costs,
Speaker 1: best wishes, offers to call. I put my phone on,
Speaker 1: do not disturbed, and walk the windows lights off so
Speaker 1: I could see the city beyond the glass, a lattice
Speaker 1: of stories moving forward oblivious. Beneath it, the street lamps
Speaker 1: flickered over the empty sidewalk. Somewhere down below, a coralm
Speaker 1: whale half heartily, then fell silent. I tidied up, turned
Speaker 1: off the music airic always left on in the background,
Speaker 1: an ancient culture in record. Now pointedly silent, I began
Speaker 1: to gather stray receipts from the counttop, every paper, a
Speaker 1: reminder of the investigation that had become my routine. Ardel charges,
Speaker 1: bartas ups the business card with Lana's name. I locked
Speaker 1: them in a filing box, unable to throw them away,
Speaker 1: but unwilling to keep them on display. My actions felt
Speaker 1: small and feudile, but I did them anyway. Within the hour,
Speaker 1: Carolin called twice, her name, lighting up my silent phone.
Speaker 1: I didn't answer the first call or the second. I
Speaker 1: texted her a flat We're okay. He needs some space,
Speaker 1: he'll call soon. I hated how each lie it was
Speaker 1: its own little betrayal, how my own artive now depended
Speaker 1: on selective truths. Night deepened. I replaced the guest towels,
Speaker 1: dumpedy and touched fruit, swept, dusted, ritual after ritual, erased
Speaker 1: the signs of eric, or tried to. Every clean surface
Speaker 1: felt like a place I would have to relain. My
Speaker 1: hands moved without instruction inside something hollowed out, Relieved of
Speaker 1: the work. That night, in bed alone, the ache turned
Speaker 1: from sharp todell. I stared at a ceiling, listening to
Speaker 1: the groan and click of radiators in the next Yune
Speaker 1: had no longer trying to decipher his return, no longer
Speaker 1: bracing for a door or a late night apology. The
Speaker 1: city kept moving outside, tireless and indifferent. By mid morning
Speaker 1: the next day, I was fielding a barrot of messages
Speaker 1: from people who didn't know what had happened, but since
Speaker 1: something size me had shifted. Amanda invited me down for coffee.
Speaker 1: I declined, with the promise to catch up soon. Kim
Speaker 1: sent a string of gentle check ins. I replied to nothing.
Speaker 1: My answer is all acute and consent. Mid afternoon, at
Speaker 1: cold the front disk and arranged to have the locks
Speaker 1: changed just routine. I told the super, knowing he'd passed
Speaker 1: a word to the building's bachel gossip circuit. When he
Speaker 1: asked if I wanted a temporary hold on Eric's guess codes,
Speaker 1: I said yes, voy steady, do it to day please.
Speaker 1: A few hours later, an email bouncing from an event
Speaker 1: in Vite Lorna's for a lunch at the Blue Lantern,
Speaker 1: addressed to both of us through some old list. I
Speaker 1: moved it to spam without opening. I stared at the folder,
Speaker 1: mouse hovering over and subscribe. The urge to reply with
Speaker 1: venom was strong, but I let it go. There was
Speaker 1: no satisfaction in fighting with a ghost, As Dusk felt,
Speaker 1: the hollow of Eric's absence became air chet by other tasks,
Speaker 1: opening old billying statements of dating account passwords, notifying the
Speaker 1: cleaner to his schedule service each Monday. In action fixed
Speaker 1: the split a little deeper in the fabric of my life. Routine,
Speaker 1: when exposed, turned out to be more of an extra
Speaker 1: skeleton than a comforted protected the softest places while it survived.
Speaker 1: The second night alone, I found myself at the dining
Speaker 1: room table, pouring a careful glass of wine, a small
Speaker 1: act of control, not celebration. I allowed myself to study
Speaker 1: my own fracture of reflection in the window, the nodded hair,
Speaker 1: the high color in my cheeks, the pulse flickering in
Speaker 1: my throat. Was this what healing looked like? Slowly rearranging
Speaker 1: old habits until the furniture of my own mind made
Speaker 1: since Again. The fawn lit up again and anknown number
Speaker 1: Eric probably or maybe Caroline. This time I let it rain.
Speaker 1: I realized there was nothing I wanted to say. My
Speaker 1: anger so vital just twenty four hours earlier, now felt emptied,
Speaker 1: replaced by a noun seismic fritigue. On the third day,
Speaker 1: a package arrived, addressed to both of us, a whiting
Speaker 1: gift from an out of town friend who didn't know
Speaker 1: the news yet. I stood in the way, box cutter
Speaker 1: and hand, staring at my own name, paired beside his,
Speaker 1: as if daring me to laugh or cry. Instead, I
Speaker 1: sliced the tate, said the gift aside, unopened, and stacked
Speaker 1: it behind the coats. There was no ritual for discarding
Speaker 1: such things. Gracefully, rain slacked the city d glass outside,
Speaker 1: the world going gray. I started to draft emails, first clients,
Speaker 1: then to the condor board, then to my own parents,
Speaker 1: the words mercilessly, practical, never touching the real story. It
Speaker 1: was easy to talk about time away, to say, pressures
Speaker 1: at work, but impossible to describe how trust had shriveled
Speaker 1: under the weight of so many small, calculated omissions. At
Speaker 1: some point I wandered into the studio, the one ericad
Speaker 1: annex with his pencils. The graphite smudge is still dark
Speaker 1: on the desk edge. The air inside smelled faintly of
Speaker 1: paper and cologne. I found his latest sketch book, a
Speaker 1: half finished portrait, his face blurry, never quite making eye
Speaker 1: contact with anything outside the page. I closed the cover
Speaker 1: gently set it aside. The days continued in increments, each
Speaker 1: measured by small departures, deleting a joints of scription, tossing
Speaker 1: an old invitation, listening for sounds that wouldn't return. Neighbors
Speaker 1: tiptoed around me in the hall, accommodating my colder wave,
Speaker 1: offering thin smiles. I felt both seen and invisible, the
Speaker 1: women left behind by a story no one could quite
Speaker 1: finish retelling. The pressure kept mounting. Every decision seemed public,
Speaker 1: every moment of sadness became performative under the polite surveillance
Speaker 1: of our high rises community. I lied to people i'd
Speaker 1: once trusted about why Eric had left, inventing emotions that
Speaker 1: sounded dignified. We were just working through some things. Unfielded
Speaker 1: more invitations out of obligation and genuine concern. The tension
Speaker 1: was worse around Lona. She took up too much sexic space,
Speaker 1: her name mentioned almost absently by acquaintances at the coffee bar,
Speaker 1: her face flickering, and photos on mutual friend's feats. A
Speaker 1: man to text, he are you actually okay? With Eric
Speaker 1: and Lana working so late, we saw them grab breakfast
Speaker 1: on second of I looked and tents didn't want to pray.
Speaker 1: The implication was another interrogation, and I realized how ill
Speaker 1: equipped I was to defend myself or him or her.
Speaker 1: I fielded a call from Caroline at noon one day.
Speaker 1: This time, I answered, wanting to control the narrative. He's
Speaker 1: staying elsewhere. I told her A lot happened is personal.
Speaker 1: She pressed, Was it worse than work? Was he safe?
Speaker 1: Her voice muddled by concern and sibling loyalty. I answered
Speaker 1: only what I had to. You'll hear more from him soon.
Speaker 1: I'm not the messenger any more. The cost of figilant
Speaker 1: spread through everything. In some nichechase me at night, I
Speaker 1: will to the clatter of my own thoughts, replaying lines
Speaker 1: of past conversations, cataloging moments when Eric had tried, perhaps
Speaker 1: to warn me, or push me away, or simply test
Speaker 1: the seams of our shared life. I resented myself for
Speaker 1: needing these answers, for craving the clarity that an outright
Speaker 1: confession would bring. On a Thursday, lun called, not texted,
Speaker 1: but called, as if to formalize the breach. I let
Speaker 1: it ring until voicemail called at drouding her voice her words.
Speaker 1: I imagine the script of apologies or rationalizations, or perhaps
Speaker 1: even recress for forgiveness. Eventually, I played the message in
Speaker 1: the safety of early morning light. Julia, I don't expect
Speaker 1: you to reply, I wanted to say, I never meant
Speaker 1: for this to happen this way, but I know that
Speaker 1: doesn't help. Eric's not himself lately. If you ever want
Speaker 1: to talk, I'm here. I won't reach out again unless
Speaker 1: you want me to. I'm sorry. I deleted the message
Speaker 1: without responding. The act half closure, half surrender. I'd wanted vindication,
Speaker 1: but with a came of flatness, indistinguishable from grief. The
Speaker 1: isolation grew more explicit as words spread quietly through the building.
Speaker 1: Invitation shrank. Some friends retreated, uncertain which side held the
Speaker 1: more compelling sympathy. Even Kim, always loyal, hesitated at times.
Speaker 1: The life error and I, constructed so public, so associable,
Speaker 1: had never prepared us for fracture. I overheard two neighbors
Speaker 1: in the elevator discussing me in low voices that, Sir
Speaker 1: Julia from the dinner's poor thing. You know. Their words
Speaker 1: were pitying and a brisolt. I wanted to be neither
Speaker 1: the victim nor the villain, but the script gave no
Speaker 1: room for dignity. At the grocery store, I found myself
Speaker 1: buying only one of everything, single so of yogurt's, half
Speaker 1: loaves of bread, modest because as though I aiming to shrink
Speaker 1: my existence. I caught myself reaching for Eric's favorite tea,
Speaker 1: pausing mitchelf. I left it there at the gesture and
Speaker 1: act of principle. As much as grief sleep evaded me.
Speaker 1: I rose at five, staring out at the streaks of
Speaker 1: first light over the skyline. The city's pulse, um broken
Speaker 1: by my heartbreak. Moments from the last few months replaid
Speaker 1: themselves in snatches, Eric's vertive foe and calls, the nervous
Speaker 1: scratching of his pen, Lonna's casual familiarity at the jazz bar.
Speaker 1: I wondered again how much had been choreography, how much accidental?
Speaker 1: An email ping the bank confirming the shed cart had
Speaker 1: been locked at my request, a bureaucrat again to a
Speaker 1: thousand everday transactions. I felt relief and regret not to
Speaker 1: together so many small investments split at the seams. Escalations
Speaker 1: came not as dramatic advurice, but in the whittling down
Speaker 1: of our shared existence. Eric, true to form, sent a
Speaker 1: single long message days later, careful and non accusatory. I've
Speaker 1: moved into a friend's spare room. I'll be out of
Speaker 1: your hair. Let me know if you need anything from
Speaker 1: me or if this paper worked, sign I'm trying to
Speaker 1: make things easy. I stared at the screen, feeling both
Speaker 1: the door closing and fresh air. Finally entering the room,
Speaker 1: I didn't answer at first. When I finally did my
Speaker 1: reply with sparren and yielding, send me your new dress
Speaker 1: for any forwarded mail. The rest can wait. There were
Speaker 1: no swells of anger, no theatrical closure, just facts. Now Still,
Speaker 1: the reminders of his presence clung to naesely to everything. Evenings,
Speaker 1: I'd catched the scent of his colone lingering on the
Speaker 1: hallway rug a jacket had neglected to return to the
Speaker 1: dry cleaner, his sketchbooks quietly stapped under the window. I
Speaker 1: allowed myself the indulgence of moving his things, not yet
Speaker 1: disposing of them, just relocating them to a new zone
Speaker 1: in the spare closet. It was during one such rearrangement
Speaker 1: that I found the small box again, the empty jewelry
Speaker 1: case letiuscue. Some wild, foolish part of me considered returning
Speaker 1: it to the door, demanding to know who had signed
Speaker 1: for the purchase, hungry for fresh humiliation, but I placed
Speaker 1: it in the discard pile instead, refusing at least outwardly
Speaker 1: to become the archivist of my own pain. My internal
Speaker 1: temperature oscillated wildly, sometimes pure clean anger, other times loneliness
Speaker 1: so acute it felt physical. The world did not end,
Speaker 1: but grew narrowly practical. Every remaining third with Erek became
Speaker 1: less about resolution, more about logistics, bills, insurance, unwinding social obligations,
Speaker 1: reassigning the minichie of a shared life. It was any slow,
Speaker 1: grueling daze that the desire for a coommodating confrontation sharpened.
Speaker 1: I needed something final, something immovable, something cleanding. The discovery
Speaker 1: at the phone calls, the evidence. It was all still
Speaker 1: scattered and indirect. I wondered the truth, not in fragments
Speaker 1: or apologies, but whollen, then disguised. So when Eric texted,
Speaker 1: unexpected just after sunset on a Wednesday, can I come
Speaker 1: back to collect a few things. It won't take long,
Speaker 1: no drum and I saw my opening and replied to
Speaker 1: night is fine. I'll be here. My pulse steadied as
Speaker 1: I sent it. He arrived just after eight, carrying a
Speaker 1: canvas toot visibly thinner than just weeks before. He rapped
Speaker 1: polightly and certain, as though I might not answer, I
Speaker 1: opened the door, gestured him inside without inviting pol on
Speaker 1: thy contact. He moved quickly, mechanically collecting stacks of sketch
Speaker 1: books and miscellaneous charges from the den. As he packed,
Speaker 1: I spoke quite but a wavering You can take everything
Speaker 1: with you. I don't want reminders. He hesitated, then caught
Speaker 1: my gaze over the spines of his half sip bag.
Speaker 1: Do you want to say anything else to me? He asked,
Speaker 1: the words uncharacteristically vulnerable, careful. I inhaled, steadying my nerves.
Speaker 1: I want the truth, the whole thing, not for closure,
Speaker 1: just so there's nothing left to question. I want to
Speaker 1: hear it in your own words. He dropped his hands
Speaker 1: as white with fatigue, and slumped into the empty dinner
Speaker 1: chaer near as the kitchen. You know most of it already,
Speaker 1: he said, voie brill. There's nothing left to deny. I
Speaker 1: was with her, not just a few drunken nights. I
Speaker 1: wanted it. I let you believe it was worth work,
Speaker 1: that you were pushing me too hard, that he'd made
Speaker 1: things impossible. It's not true. I'm the one who wanted out.
Speaker 1: I just didn't have the guts to say it, or
Speaker 1: to fail solo. He squeezed his eyes shut for a
Speaker 1: long moment. I didn't mean to hurt you, but I did.
Speaker 1: I tried to sell the story. It may be even
Speaker 1: to myself, that you were watching too closely or making
Speaker 1: things up. That wasn't you, It was me. His admission
Speaker 1: hit like a blonde instrument. No drama, just the slow
Speaker 1: churn of pain. You let me be the suspicious one.
Speaker 1: You told them I was anxious, difficult. You let me
Speaker 1: hand myself out to the neighbors, to your sister, to everyone.
Speaker 1: Every little piece, if found, you made look like paranoia.
Speaker 1: He looked at the floor, Shane collecting in the cracks
Speaker 1: between us. I know, I know, I'm sorry. I was
Speaker 1: already half way gun before I knew it. It made
Speaker 1: me angry, furious even, But more than that, it made
Speaker 1: me tired. I heard my own voice claim, not in pitch,
Speaker 1: but in density, every syllable weighted, clipped, the insult. Isn't
Speaker 1: the Lona. I could have survived her or some one
Speaker 1: else that she drafting me as the villain in your exit.
Speaker 1: It's how every excuse drew a deeper line between us
Speaker 1: and told others told me that my reality didn't exist.
Speaker 1: He grimaced, nodding, mouth set and hopeless. You were always
Speaker 1: better at the honor stuff. It just couldn't bear being
Speaker 1: the disappointment, so I chose worse. There was nothing left
Speaker 1: to say, no more explanations, no further denials or gentle accusations.
Speaker 1: The damage was visible everywhere, in the stack of mail,
Speaker 1: half addressed to each of us, in the ring of
Speaker 1: condensation left by an untouched glass, in the fact that
Speaker 1: with every word the loss became more final, less reversible.
Speaker 1: He rose, slung his half pat bag over his shoulder
Speaker 1: again and met my eyes one last time. If there's
Speaker 1: anything you need from me, money, my name, off the lease, anything,
Speaker 1: just let me know. I'll do it. I nodded. I'll
Speaker 1: send an email when I'm ready. He turned toward the
Speaker 1: door for a second. He hesitated, hand on the knob.
Speaker 1: I brace for a last look, simply for forgiveness, But
Speaker 1: he only said, I hope you'll be okay. The door
Speaker 1: closed with a muffled click behind him. I sit quietly,
Speaker 1: letting the silence fill every inch of my body for
Speaker 1: a minute too. I walked the condo once lights low,
Speaker 1: checked the rooms for signs of his absence. His sketch
Speaker 1: books now gone a chair by the window, no longer
Speaker 1: came into his weight, to closet door jar and waiting
Speaker 1: to be filled with some one else's tomorrow. I poured
Speaker 1: the remains of the worn from our last joined dinner down.
Speaker 1: The drain washed the glass until it squeaked. My hand shook,
Speaker 1: but I didn't drop it. I opened every window, letting
Speaker 1: the night air rush through the sounds of the city,
Speaker 1: distant horns, the hum of life unbroken crept back, and
Speaker 1: to replace the vacancy erac left after the gusts had settled,
Speaker 1: I lifted the box of artfac's receipts, guest locks, hotel
Speaker 1: print hoots, and slid them into the trash, pressing them
Speaker 1: deep into cold ditches and coffee grounds. I gathered his
Speaker 1: left over possessions into a bag and left it by
Speaker 1: the front door. When I was finished, I sat at
Speaker 1: the dining room table alone again, the hum of the
Speaker 1: refrigerator filling the silence. I opened a new bottle of wine,
Speaker 1: poured a little, and raised the glass knot in celebration,
Speaker 1: not in grief, but as a small declaration the shape
Speaker 1: of my world would now be drawn by my own hand.
Speaker 1: For a moment, the only sound in the room was
Speaker 1: my breast, steady and unhurried. The city light glittered across
Speaker 1: the windows, indifferent and undeniable. I traced the room of
Speaker 1: the glass, feeling the chill, the clean against my fingers.
Speaker 1: The night for once belonged only to me. And that
Speaker 1: is the end. Thank you for listening, and I will
Speaker 1: see you in the next one.