: Same Time Next WeekThe weeks that follow settle into a quiet rhythm neither of us discusses out loud, dinners every Friday at the same small restaurant, sometimes joined by Lila for an early meal before Noah drives her back to my father's estate, sometimes just the two of us lingering long after the other tables have emptied.I watch him carefully during each one, waiting for the old patterns to resurface, the distracted phone checking, the clipped impatience whenever a conversation ventures somewhere uncomfortable. They don't come. If anything, he seems more present with each visit, asking questions about my work that show he's actually been listening, remembering small details from previous conversations that used to slip past him entirely during our marriage."You've mentioned Whitmore three times now," he says one evening, four weeks into whatever this has slowly become. "The board member who keeps testing you in meetings.""He's finally starting to ease up." I twirl my fork th
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