I folded the note carefully and slipped it into my pocket.
That entire afternoon dragged by painfully slowly.
When Owen came home, he kissed my cheek distractedly and headed straight for the shower.
“You’re late,” I said.
“Busy day.”
That was all.
No eye contact. No warmth. Just distance.
While he showered, I stood in the kitchen gripping the edge of the counter. For the first time in years, I studied my husband like a stranger.
The silver creeping into his dark hair.
The tired lines around his mouth.
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