Evie never chased a confession. She only left the door open and waited to see if I had the courage to walk through. I never did.
One night, I found her sitting on the bottom stair with one hand pressed against the wall. She claimed she was fine, but I helped her up anyway. For one brief second, she leaned her weight into me before pulling away. In the kitchen, I tried to make tea, but I forgot to let the water boil first. She laughed softly, and for a few minutes, the house felt almost normal, like I was truly her husband and not just a man hiding under her roof.
Then my phone buzzed with a text from Jesse: “How’s the retirement plan?” Evie was smiling down at the mug I had made her. When she asked if everything was all right, I said it was just Jesse being stupid. Then I typed back, “All good. Once she’s gone, I’m set.” I hated myself for two seconds. Then I locked my phone and acted like two seconds of shame was enough.
