9. Under the Same Roof

 

Jordan

Billy followed me back home from the office that evening. Not in the same car, but close enough that I noticed the familiar headlights behind me the entire drive. It felt deliberate, like he wanted me to be aware of his presence, like he was already settling into a space that wasn’t his yet.

Dinner was already set when we walked in. The smell of food filled the dining room, warm and heavy, but instead of comfort, it pressed down on my chest. Ashley sat at the table like everything was normal, like the house wasn’t cracked right down the middle. She smiled when she saw us, a practiced smile, the kind that didn’t reach her eyes.

We sat together. All of us.

To anyone else, it would probably look stupid, sitting at the same table with the woman I was divorcing, acting like we were still a family. But Ashley had insisted. She said it was for Chris. That we shouldn’t change things too fast. That children needed routine.

And stupidly, I didn’t argue.

I focused on my plate, barely tasting the food. Across from me, Billy laughed at something Ashley said, his voice easy, familiar, slipping too comfortably into the space that was supposed to be mine. Their glances didn’t linger, not long enough to be obvious, but they were there. Quick looks. Small smiles. Shared understanding.

I saw all of it.

The house felt different already. Smaller. Like the walls had shifted closer without anyone touching them.

“Daddy…”

Chris’s small voice cut through my thoughts. I looked down immediately, my irritation dissolving the second I saw his hand wrapped around my wrist. His fingers were sticky, probably from dessert.

“Hey, buddy,” I said, forcing a smile. “What do you need?”

He pointed toward the fruit bowl in the center of the table, eyes wide and hopeful. “Apple.”

I reached for it before Ashley could. “Here you go.”

He grinned, satisfied, already distracted again.

“I’ll be moving in temporarily,” Billy said suddenly.

The words landed heavier than they should have.

I looked up sharply, my hand still hovering near Chris. Billy didn’t look at me right away. He kept his eyes on his food, like this was no big deal, like he wasn’t just crossing a line.

“Well,” he continued, casual, “this place is closer to the company. Makes sense, especially now.”

I turned my gaze to Ashley.

Excitement flickered across her face before she could stop it. Just for a second.

Right. This was the time.

In my past life, I remembered feeling relieved when he offered. Grateful, even. I had been sick then, weak, exhausted, desperate for support. I had believed he was helping me. I had believed he cared.

Now, I could see it for what it was.

Proximity.

Ashley was the reason.

“Woah, that’s great, Billy,” Ashley said quickly. “It’ll be nice having you around.”

Billy finally looked at me, eyebrows raised, waiting.

I swallowed slowly. Every instinct in me screamed to say no, to shut it down, to end this little performance right here at the table. But if I act too early, my plans might fail.

I take a deep slow breath.

“If you think it’ll help,” I said evenly.

His grin widened. “I do.”

Dinner ended shortly after that. Chris was taken upstairs, Ashley excusing herself with a light kiss to his forehead that made my stomach twist. Billy followed me into the living room like he already belonged there, dropping his jacket over the back of the couch.

I can't stay here with him, I might move to another room or just stay in the study. 

I end up in the study.

The room was quiet except for the faint hum of the house settling around me. I had a book open in front of me, but I hadn’t turned a page in minutes. My eyes stayed fixed on the same line, my mind somewhere else entirely.

The door creaked open softly.

I didn’t look up.

Billy walked in carrying a small glass of water and the familiar white pill resting in his palm.

“I brought the pill for your migraine,” he said gently. “Did you seriously plan to work overnight without your medication?” I look up from the book on my hand.

The sight of the pill made my chest tighten.

For a moment, everything else blurred. The room. The book. The sound of my own breathing. All I could see was that pill. Small. Innocent-looking. The same one I had swallowed without question in my past life. The same one that had slowly ruined my organs while I trusted the person standing in front of me.

Blood drained from my face, but I didn’t let him see it.

“Thanks,” I said, keeping my voice steady.

He handed it to me, watching closely as I placed it on my tongue. I lifted the glass, tilting my head back slightly. I made sure to exaggerate the swallow, my throat bobbing just enough.

Billy’s eyes followed the movement.

Satisfaction flashing across his face.

He smiled, slow and pleased, like he had just completed a task. “You should get some rest,” he said. “Big day tomorrow.”

“I will,” I replied.

He lingered for a second longer, his reflection visible in the glass door of the cabinet beside me. I caught the grin there. Wide. Content.

Then he turned and left, closing the door softly behind him.

The moment the room went quiet, I leaned forward, coughing once into my fist. I let the pill roll out from under my tongue and into my palm, my fingers closing around it instinctively.

My hand shook as I slipped it into my shirt pocket.

I listened to his footsteps fade down the hallway.

Only then did I pull the pill back out.

It sat in my palm, small and deadly, like it hadn’t already taken everything from me once before. I stared at it for a long time, my fingers curling slowly around it.

A strange calm settled over me, the assurance that I am in control now.

I slipped it into the drawer of my desk and closed it carefully.

Honestly, what I wanted to do right then was wreck this house. Tear it apart piece by piece. Break the illusion they were both so comfortable living in.

But I couldn’t yet.

Not yet, I wish I could go somewhere and just rest.