I discovered something very strange about my marriage that morning. Apparently, husbands and wives in this house didn't behave like a married couple. They behaved like polite, distant roommates who occasionally shared a hallway. I stood in the corridor, staring at two separate heavy mahogany doors. My bedroom. Liam’s bedroom. Right next to each other. Completely separate. I frowned, taking a step forward and knocking on his door. No answer. I knocked again, louder this time. "Lee?" The door swung open. Liam stood there, already impeccably dressed in his charcoal suit for work. He looked down at me, his eyes cool and neutral. "What?" "Why do we have separate bedrooms?" He stared at me for a beat, his eyebrows pulling together. "You’re asking me?" "Yes." "Abby, you’ve been sleeping in that room for years." "I don’t remember those years, Lee!" That shut him up immediately. His rigid expression softened for a brief, vulnerable fraction of a second. He looked at me—truly looke
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