Morning came like an accusation. The sunlight that crept through the gap in the curtains was thin and grey, the colour of old dishwater, and it pooled on the hardwood floor without warmth. Grey lay rigid beside Lisa, who had somehow managed to sleep through the long, terrible hours of his vigil. Her breathing was deep and even, the sound of peace, the sound of a soul untroubled by the weight of its own treachery. He turned his head very slowly, careful not to disturb her, and studied her profile in the weak light. Her lashes fanned against her cheek, dark and delicate. Her mouth was soft, slightly parted. The swell of her belly rose and fell beneath the comforter, their daughter tumbling and shifting within, blissfully unaware that her father had become a stranger to himself.He should get up. He should shower, shave, dress in one of the crisp shirts that Lisa had ironed for him, the ones that smelled of fabric softener and domesticity. He should kiss her goodbye, a chaste press of l
Last Updated : 2026-02-19
