The Space Between Us

The morning light in Seattle didn't bring hope;it just brought a headache that pulsed behind my eyes.I woke up with my face pressed against the silk pillowcase.

The bottle of liquor was tipped over on the nightstand, a single amber drop hanging off the rim and the bitter taste of liquor still coating my tongue.

I didn't need to turn my head to see that the bed was still empty. The other side of the king-sized mattress was cold, the sheets perfectly smooth. He hadn't come home. Not at midnight, not at three, not even when the sun started to peak through the Seattle mist.

I dragged myself to the bathroom, my head spinning. I looked in the mirror and didn't recognize the woman staring back. My hair, which I had curled so carefully for him, was a bird's nest of tangles.

 My mascara had smudged into dark shadows under my eyes, making me look like I’d been in a fight. I walked downstairs, my stomach doing a slow, sick flip with every step. I expected to see the graveyard of my anniversary dinner, but the kitchen was spotless.

 Rosa, our house help, must have come in early. She had bleached the counters and scrubbed the pots until the scent of rosemary and thyme was replaced by a sharp, clinical lemon.

 My five hours of work had been wiped away like a common spill.

My phone buzzed on the counter. It was Andrea.

Andrea (10:14 AM): Okay, spill! How was the big anniversary dinner? I want all the tea, babe. Every single detail. 

I stared at the screen. I wanted to tell her the truth. That I had spent the night watching our wedding videos on repeat while drinking straight from the bottle because using a glass felt like too much effort. 

How I had laughed at some point…actually laughed…because it all felt so ridiculous.

But Andrea was a divorce lawyer. If I told her, she wouldn't just listen; she’d analyze,advise and start building something official.She would start a file. And I wasn't ready to be a "case" yet.

Me (10:16 AM): It was incredible. He was so surprised. We stayed up way too late talking, so I’m a total zombie today! Talk soon! 

The reply came almost instantly.

Andrea (10:17 AM): Ugh, I knew it! You guys are disgusting. Go back to sleep, Mrs. Perfect!

“Mrs. Perfect.” The words hit hard in my chest.

The lie felt like a stone in my stomach. I spent the rest of the day in a daze, Everytime my phone buzzed,my heart gave a painful jerk,but it was never him. It was just more “Happy Anniversary” 

“Couple goals!”

“So in love!” tags from people who thought I was currently being swept off my feet. 

I almost laughed again.

I waited for a car that didn’t arrive until 11:30 PM that night. When the garage door finally hummed, I didn't move. I sat in the armchair in the dark, my body feeling heavy and hollow.

When the front door clicked, Damian flipped the light switch. I winced at the brightness. He looked perfect as always. His suit was crisp, hair styled. He didn't look like a man who had been rushing,or stressed or stuck in delayed flights.

"Emilka,You're still up?" he asked, walking over with a smooth, practiced smile. "I'm so sorry, Emil. Truly. "The meetings ran over, and then the flight... you wouldn't believe the weather in Chicago."

"Chicago?" I asked. "I thought you were in San Francisco."

He paused, his fingers frozen on his collar for just a split second. Then he laughed. That easy, charming laugh. 

"Right. San Francisco. I'm so tired I don't even know where I am. Brain fry, Emil. Total brain fry.”The meeting at the hotel in San Francisco ran so late, we just ended up staying there to finish the deal. It was a nightmare."

"It’s okay," I whispered. I forced a smile onto my face, playing the part I had just promised Andrea. "You’re home now. That’s all that matters."

I stood up and walked to him, playing the "Perfect Wife." I reached for his tie, slowly unknotting it. I unbuttoned his shirt, my fingers grazing his skin, looking for any sign of where he had actually been.A faint floral scent lingered.It was definitely not mine… but I brushed it off

"Let me help you," I said softly. I led him toward the bed, pushing the heavy jacket off his shoulders.

I sat him down and climbed into his lap, wrapping my arms around his neck, pressing myself against him like I could close the distance that had been growing for months.

I kissed him.Slow at first, then long and deep,desperate to feel the man I had married five years ago. I could feel his heart beating, but he was stiff, his hands resting awkwardly on my waist instead of pulling me closer.

When I tried to move my hand lower, to pull his shirt open further and bridge the gap between us, he suddenly caught my wrist.

"Emilka, stop," he said. His voice wasn't mean, but it was incredibly cold.

"Dae, please," I whispered, my voice thick with the desperation of someone who was drowning. "It’s been months. It’s our anniversary. It’ll be quick, I promise..."

He let out a tired, heavy sigh, kissed me on my forehead and gently pushed me off his lap. He stood up, avoiding my eyes as he reached for a fresh towel.

"I’m sorry, Emil. I really am. But I’ve had a grueling day. My head is spinning, and I just need a hot shower and eight hours of sleep. We’ll talk in the morning, okay?"

He didn't wait for my answer. He walked into the bathroom and shut the door. A moment later, the sound of the rushing water filled the room, drowning out the sound of my own breathing.

I sat on the edge of the bed, my skin feeling cold where his hands had just been. He was home, but the wall between us was higher than it had ever been. It wasn't just about the missed dinner. It wasn't even about the lie.

It was the way he had looked at me like I was something familiar, but no longer desired. Like I belonged to a version of his life he had already outgrown.

He hadn't just missed our anniversary.

He was missing from the marriage entirely.