The Rainy Night
Past ten o'clock. Rain hammered the windows in torrents. Emma awoke frightened, crying as she ran to me. I held her, soothing her softly. Ethan wasn't home. His message lit my phone in the dark: "Heavy rain, still at the office sorting things. Don't wait up." I replied, "Okay. Drive safely." After Emma slept, I went to the window.
Rain streamed down the glass, blurring the streetlights outside. The city seemed submerged. My face reflected in the phone's glow felt icy. After one AM, the key turned. He entered damp and weary, moving quietly. "Still awake?" he sounded surprised. "Couldn't sleep through the storm," I gazed outside. "Everything handled?" "Yeah," he shed his wet coat, avoiding my eyes. "Sophia helped clarify key channel strategies. Finally some progress." Sophia again. The rain's rhythm echoed in my mind all night.
A Vanished Anniversary
Our seventh wedding anniversary. I booked our favorite riverside restaurant—candles, flowers, a new dress. At five PM, his text arrived: "Urgent client meeting. Can't make it. You and Emma eat without me. Gift on the nightstand." The gift was perfume in elegant packaging. I opened it: the familiar cool cedarwood scent.
Not my usual floral notes. He probably never noticed what I wore. I twisted the cap back on with a soft click. Emma nibbled ice cream, spoon tinkling against the glass. "Mommy, when's Daddy coming?" "Daddy's busy," I stroked her hair. "Let's finish all the yummy food for him, okay?" Home late, his slippers sat neatly in the entryway. In the bedroom, the perfume bottle stood silently under the warm lamplight, casting cold glints.
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Past ten o'clock. Rain hammered the windows in torrents. Emma awoke frightened, crying as she ran to me. I held her, soothing her softly. Ethan wasn't home. His message lit my phone in the dark: "Heavy rain, still at the office sorting things. Don't wait up." I replied, "Okay. Drive safely." After Emma slept, I went to the window.
Rain streamed down the glass, blurring the streetlights outside. The city seemed submerged. My face reflected in the phone's glow felt icy. After one AM, the key turned. He entered damp and weary, moving quietly. "Still awake?" he sounded surprised. "Couldn't sleep through the storm," I gazed outside. "Everything handled?" "Yeah," he shed his wet coat, avoiding my eyes. "Sophia helped clarify key channel strategies. Finally some progress." Sophia again. The rain's rhythm echoed in my mind all night.
A Vanished Anniversary
Our seventh wedding anniversary. I booked our favorite riverside restaurant—candles, flowers, a new dress. At five PM, his text arrived: "Urgent client meeting. Can't make it. You and Emma eat without me. Gift on the nightstand." The gift was perfume in elegant packaging. I opened it: the familiar cool cedarwood scent.
Not my usual floral notes. He probably never noticed what I wore. I twisted the cap back on with a soft click. Emma nibbled ice cream, spoon tinkling against the glass. "Mommy, when's Daddy coming?" "Daddy's busy," I stroked her hair. "Let's finish all the yummy food for him, okay?" Home late, his slippers sat neatly in the entryway. In the bedroom, the perfume bottle stood silently under the warm lamplight, casting cold glints.
NEXT >>
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