PART 2:
One from my younger sister, Ava, asking if I was still coming to dinner Friday.
And a calendar reminder I had forgotten about completely.
9:30 a.m. — Regional Leadership Transition Call.
The promotion.
For a few seconds, grief hit me in a way I hadn’t expected.
Not because I was leaving the job.
I wasn’t.
But because the happiest professional moment of my life had somehow become attached to the worst night of my marriage.
I had spent fourteen years building that career.
Daniel had managed to make one night feel like it belonged to him.
I wrapped both hands around my coffee mug.
“No,” I whispered.
He didn’t get to own that memory.
Upstairs, floorboards creaked.
A moment later Daniel came into the kitchen wearing sweatpants, his hair flattened on one side. He looked at me without speaking.
His eyes moved immediately to my scalp.
The discomfort on his face almost made me laugh.
