I told myself I wasn’t going to wait for Ethan. I even believed it for the first hour. After I got home, I unpacked the groceries, changed into something comfortable, and started dinner anyway. Not because he had promised to come home early. At least, that was what I told myself. I simply didn’t like wasting food. By seven-thirty, everything was ready. I had made one of Ethan’s favorite dishes, set the table, and opened the bottle of wine we had been saving. By eight, the food was already losing its warmth. I checked my phone. Nothing. His last message was still the same one from earlier. Ethan: “Thanks again for bringing the flash drive.” I typed, What time are you coming home? then stared at the words for a few seconds before deleting them. Why was I suddenly afraid of sounding like a wife who checked on her husband too much? Margaret entered the dining room while I was putting the lid back on one of the dishes. “Ethan still isn’t home?” Margaret asked. “Not yet,” I replied
Last Updated : 2026-09-05 Read more