Chapter 2

The Quiet House  

Sophia pushed the guest bedroom door open. The room was dark. She didn’t turn on the lights. She walked to the bed, sat down, and pulled off her heels. Her feet hurt. She rubbed one foot, then the other, pressing her thumbs into the sore spots in slow circles.  

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand. She picked it up.  

Adrian: I didn't realize what time it was.  

She looked at the message until it got blurry. Her thumb stopped over the screen. She could tell him everything — about the cold steak, the cake in the trash, the ring on the empty plate. But she locked the phone and put it face-down on the bed.  

She stood up and went to the window. She pulled the curtain back. The garden outside was dark and still. The fountain was empty for winter. The rose bushes were covered up, like things people forget about.  

“It’s cold,” she whispered, putting her hand on the glass. The cold went into her skin.  

She turned and opened the closet. She felt for the boxes on the top shelf. She pulled one down and opened it. The watch inside was still wrapped in plastic. She closed it and grabbed the next box. A leather journal, still sealed. Then the wedding photo, the glass still clean. She put them all back and closed the closet door softly.  

She picked up her phone again.  

Adrian: Are you awake?  

Her jaw got tight. She typed quickly.  

Sophia: I’m always awake when you come home. You never come home.  

She sent it and flipped the phone over.  

She lay back and stared at the plain white ceiling. No cracks. Nothing on it. Just empty.  

A car engine sounded far away. Sophia sat up fast. Headlights moved across the window. She stood and went back to the glass. The gates opened. A black car drove in and parked.  

Adrian got out. His suit was messy. His tie hung loose. He ran a hand through his hair and looked straight up at her window.  

Sophia didn’t move.  

He lifted his phone. Hers buzzed.  

Adrian: I see you.  

She let the curtain drop and stepped back.  

Downstairs, the front door opened. Footsteps moved across the hall. They stopped. Then they started up the stairs — one, two, ten. They stopped outside her door.  

A knock.  

“Sophia.”  

She didn’t move.  

Another knock, harder. “Sophia, open the door.”  

She put her hand on the wood. On the other side, he let out a long breath, then leaned against the door.  

“The steak looked good,” he said quietly. “I saw it in the trash.”  

She closed her eyes and breathed slowly.  

“I didn’t mean to miss it,” he said. His voice sounded tired.  

Sophia opened the door.  

Adrian stood there. His shirt was wrinkled. His eyes looked tired. He looked at her face, then at the guest bed, then back at her face. His eyebrows came together.  

“You’re in the guest room,” he said.  

“I’m always in the guest room,” she said, crossing her arms. “You just noticed.”  

He took a step toward her and reached out. She moved back, keeping space between them. His hand grabbed nothing.  

“Talk to me,” he said quietly. He rubbed the back of his neck. His shoulders were tight. “Please.”  

Sophia pointed toward the stairs. “You saw the table. The food. The ring just sitting there like a goodbye. What is there to talk about, Adrian?”  

He walked into the room and stopped by the bed. He looked at her hand. “You took it off.”  

She held up her bare fingers and turned them in the dim light. “It felt heavier than the silence in this house.”  

Adrian reached out again, slower this time. His hand stopped near hers. “I hate coming home to this. The empty plate. Your messages. I saw the cake too.”  

“Then why weren’t you here?” She moved so the bed was between them. Her voice was calm, but her fingers gripped the footboard. “I waited. I even wore that dress you bought me two years ago. The one still in the closet with the tags on.”  

He let out a sharp breath and sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees. “The merger. Calls with Tokyo ran long. I thought I could finish and still make it.”  

“Thought.” Sophia walked to the window and back. Her bare feet made no sound. She stopped in front of him. “You always think. Send those two words. Go to sleep. Like I’m a problem you can deal with tomorrow.”  

Adrian looked up at her. His jaw was tight. He stood up and moved closer. “You’re not a problem. You’re my wife. I built all this for us.”  

“For us?” She gave a short, sharp laugh, then turned away and back to him. “This house feels like a hotel where I check in alone every night. You walk through the door like a stranger.”  

He reached out and gently held her wrist. His thumb touched the skin where the ring should be. “Stay in our room tonight. We’ll talk. Really talk.”  

Sophia pulled her hand away but didn’t step back. She looked at his tired eyes, his slumped shoulders. “You say that every time. Then the phone rings and you’re gone again.”  

Adrian’s face changed. He reached for her hand again. She pulled back. His eyes dropped to her bare ring finger for the first time. His eyes got a little wider. His mouth opened, then closed.