The Price of a Perfect Marriage and the Silent Rebuild of My Worth
The wind caught the collar of my wool coat, sending a shiver down my spine.
I walked up the stone path to the front door, my keys already in my hand.
The lock turned with a familiar, heavy click.
Inside, the house was warm and smelled faintly of lavender.
I took off my coat and hung it in the closet.
Then I saw his briefcase on the console table in the hallway.
Ethan was home.
I walked into the kitchen, my heels clicking softly on the hardwood floor.
He was sitting at the kitchen island, his laptop open, a glass of water next to his hand.
His tie was loosened, and his hair was uncharacteristically messy.
He looked up when I entered.
“You aren’t answering your phone,” he said.
His voice was flat, but I could hear the strain underneath.
“I was driving,” I said.
“Arthur has been trying to reach you for an hour, Clara.”
“I know.”
I walked past him to the sink and poured myself a glass of water.
My hands were steady, which surprised me.