The custom quartz countertops I spent six months selecting. The imported espresso machine humming softly beside fresh flowers. The cedar trees swaying gently outside while gray Pacific Northwest light spilled across the polished floor.
A perfect marriage.
A perfect home.
A perfect life.
At least, that was the version Daniel loved presenting to the world.
He sat across from me at the kitchen island wearing the navy cashmere sweater I bought him for his fortieth birthday, fingers folded carefully together like a man rehearsing an important speech he expected to be admired for.Kitchen & Dining
“There’s something I need to tell you,” he said calmly.
I kept pouring cream into my coffee without reacting immediately because after twelve years of marriage, I knew Daniel’s tones better than my own heartbeat.
