I wake before the alarm again.
The first thing that comes back to me isn't the wedding.
It's Robert's voice.
Someone important.
Three nights later, the words still haven't left me alone.
I try eating breakfast normally, brushing my hair normally, pretending this is a normal Tuesday. None of it sticks for more than a few minutes at a time.
I'm done waiting for someone to hand me the rest of it.
Breakfast is ordinary. Robert eats fast, checks his watch twice, and leaves for back-to-back meetings before I've finished my tea.
“I'll be late tonight,” he says at the door, already halfway through it. “Don't wait dinner.”
“I never do.”
“You always do.”
He's gone before I can argue, which is probably for the best, since he isn't wrong.
Mrs. Calloway starts clearing plates the second the
