My ex-wife came to see our son. She ended up staying the night. I let her sleep on the couch. After midnight, I heard something I wasn’t supposed to hear.
And something in that look… broke.
“I lost the account,” she said, her voice unsteady. “The big one I told you about last month.”
I nodded slowly.
I remembered.
“They gave it to someone else,” she continued. “After everything I put into it.”
She let out a shaky breath.
“And my boss basically said if I don’t land something bigger this quarter…”
She didn’t finish the sentence.
She didn’t have to.
I leaned against the wall, arms folded.
Listening.
The way I used to.
“I didn’t want to come here tonight,” she said after a pause. “Not like that. I didn’t want it to feel like I needed something.”
Her voice dropped.
“But I did.”
Silence stretched between us.
Not uncomfortable.
Just… honest.
“I miss this house,” she admitted.
My chest tightened slightly.
“I miss… normal things,” she added. “Dinner. Noise. Eke arguing about cartoons.”
A small, sad smile.
“I even miss the way you leave dishes in the sink and insist you’ll ‘get to them later.’”
I let out a quiet breath.
“Still accurate,” I said.
She laughed softly.
There it was again.
Quieter this time.
But real.
“I didn’t expect it to hit me like this,” she said. “I thought I had adjusted.”
A pause.
“I thought I was okay.”
I pushed off the wall and walked a little closer.
Not too close.
Just enough.
Continued on the next page
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