The One Who Stole His Every Goodnight

At 10:59 pm, my husband, Atticus Pearson, stepped out of the bathroom right on time. I handed him his phone. His hair was still dripping wet as he had just finished showering.

He glanced at the screen casually and took it. "Why were you looking through my phone?"

"It buzzed, so I saw it."

"She just came over these past few days to help us feed the cats. Then, she got tired and lay down on the bed for a bit."

"And that makes it okay for her to be on our marital bed?"

He tightened the belt of his bathrobe and was silent for two seconds. "That's what a bed is for, isn't it? For someone to take a rest on?"

With that, he took his phone and stepped out onto the balcony to make a call.

He didn't bring the matter up again that night. After getting into bed, he simply turned onto his side, pulled the covers over himself, and faced away from me.

I stared at the back of his head in the dark. His breathing soon evened out, but I turned over and failed to get a wink of sleep the entire night.

…

We returned home the next afternoon. The moment Atticus got home, he set his suitcase down, said he had something to deal with at the company, and left again.

I walked into the master bedroom and stood by the bed for a long time, just staring at the bed.

The sheets had been changed to a grayish-white set. It was not the set I had bought. The original set had been shoved into the corner of the closet, crumpled into a ball.

Elena Stitfall had worn my pajamas, lain in my bed, and even dirtied my sheets.

Then, I noticed an extra box of cookies in the refrigerator, neatly arranged in a container. There was even a light pink sticky note stuck to the side of the container. "Atti, these are your favorite cranberry cookies."

A new set of pink tableware with gold edges had also appeared in the kitchen cupboard, and there were coasters hand-embroidered with the words "Exclusively Lena's".

My white tableware had been pushed to the very back of the cupboard, where a thin layer of dust had settled on the plates. Upon closer inspection, I noticed a chipped edge on one of them.

That set of tableware was one I'd bought in the first year of our marriage. There were initially four plates in total. But now, only three good ones were left.

I took photos of everything.

When Atticus came back that evening, I showed them to him.

He took a quick glance at them and handed the phone back to me. "I didn't know about any of this."

"And the sheets?"

"She said the old ones were too slippery and uncomfortable to sleep on, so she changed them."

"Uncomfortable for her? But that's our bed!"

Atticus quickly frowned. "Charlene, she's all alone. Can't you be a little understanding? The doctor said Lena's been emotionally unstable lately. I'm afraid something might happen to her. Just let things go for my sake and don't hold it against her, okay?"

With that, he took his phone and went out to the balcony.

Because Elena was all alone, I had to be more understanding. Because she was emotionally unstable, I had to back off. Atticus expected all of this from me, but he gave all his tenderness to her.

Bitterness filled me up, and I silently made my way to the guest room.

Moments later, at 11:00 pm sharp, the balcony door was opened. I heard Atticus laughing in a lowered voice.

"Did you have a good day today?"

"Yeah, I miss you too."

The call lasted exactly three minutes—not a minute more, not a minute less.

Then, the balcony door slid shut.

Footsteps moved from the balcony to the doorway of the guest room. Atticus paused there for a moment before moving on.