WHEN HE FINALLY LOOKED BACK

Episode 4

"Mrs. Crowe... are you alright?"

Maria's voice reached me distantly.

Slowly I put the note down.

Words blurred and then I read again.

I remember our anniversary. Do you?

Not our anniversary.

Their anniversary.

I clutched the paper even tighter.

"Mrs. Crowe?"

Slowly I folded the note and put it back into the box.

"I'm fine."

The lie flowed easily.

As usual.

Maria studied my face for a second but didn't insist further.

"I'll place it on Mr. Crowe's desk."

"No."

The answer came automatically.

Slightly raising her eyebrows, I said:

"I'll give it to him myself."

Maria nodded and left the office quietly.

As soon as the door closed, I sat down on Damian's chair.

It was still warm with the sunlight falling through the windows.

I looked around Damian's office again.

Awards.

Certificates.

Photos of various business magazines.

Photos of charity events.

Corporate dinners.

Business trips.

Dozens of photos.

None of them with me.

None.

Four years of marriage.

Not a single photo.

Looking around the box, I noticed the silver lighter.

I recognized that lighter.

Well, not the lighter itself...

But its story.

Three years ago, Damian had been at a company celebration where a number of executives were present.

One of them made a joke about Damian never drinking, never smoking, never having fun.

Damian took out the silver lighter and began spinning it between his fingers.

"A gift from someone important," he said.

That was all.

At that time, I didn't ask who.

I think some part of me knew already.

Sometimes the answers can hurt.

My phone buzzed.

Lily.

"Tell me you're not crying over that man again."

I almost smiled.

"Hello to you too."

"I'm serious, Aria."

I reclined comfortably in Damian's chair.

"I found a package from Celeste."

Silence.

"Oh no."

"Inside was a lighter."

Silence again.

"And?"

"There was a note."

I read aloud.

Lily didn't say anything for several seconds.

Finally, she exhaled loudly.

"That woman knew exactly what she was doing."

I looked at the note again.

Perhaps she did.

Perhaps she didn't.

Perhaps the truth is even worse.

Perhaps she didn't have to.

"Aria?"

"Hm?"

"Do you know what bothers me the most?"

I looked out the window.

"What?"

"You sound more sad than angry."

The answer sank into my heart.

Because she was right.

Anger burns.

As if being outside in winter and not feeling how cold you actually are.

"I have to go," I whispered.

"Promise me you'll eat lunch."

"I promise."

Another lie.

*****

Damian arrived home after nine.

I heard the front door opening while I was sitting in the living room reading.

Steps walked across the marble floor.

Stopped.

"You waited?"

I glanced at him above my book.

"I live here."

He removed his watch and put it on the side table.

Silence.

Finally, I stood up and took the box.

"This came for you."

His eyes fell onto the handwriting.

For the first time in a long time, I saw Damian Crowe losing control of his face.

For just a second.

But I saw it.

Slowly he took the box.

"When did this arrive?"

"This morning."

Immediately he opened it.

The lighter appeared in his hands.

His thumb stroked the surface of the lighter.

Not absentmindedly.

Not casually.

Familiarity.

Recognition.

Memory.

Then he unfolded the note.

Silence.

Too much silence.

Eventually he folded it again.

"You've read it."

Not a question.

A statement.

"Yes."

He nodded.

We remained silent.

"It doesn't mean anything."

I gave a soft laugh.

"There seems to be a lot of things in your life that don't mean anything."

His face hardened slightly.

"What do you mean?"

"When was it?"

The question surprised both of us.

He frowned.

"What?"

"The anniversary."

His jaw clenched.

"Years ago."

"How many?"

Silence.

Answering for him.

Enough years to matter.

Enough years to remember.

Looking down at the lighter, I said quietly:

"You forgot ours."

His eyes flickered.

Just for a second.

"That's different."

Different.

I nodded slowly.

Of course, it was.

One anniversary belonged to the woman he loved.

Another anniversary belonged to the woman he married.

My chest squeezed.

I looked away before he could see it happen.

"I'm going to bed."

"Wait."

I stopped walking.

"What?"

Silence again.

"Nothing."

I smiled without humor.

That seemed about right.

Nothing.

That became our favorite conversation.

*****

The next morning I woke up to an empty bed.

No surprises there.

I showered, got dressed, and went downstairs.

Maria was arranging flowers in the dining room.

"Good morning, Mrs. Crowe."

"Morning."

She hesitated.

"Mr. Crowe left breakfast for you."

I blinked.

"He what?"

She pointed at the kitchen island.

A small paper bag lay next to a coffee cup.

I approached.

Inside was my favorite almond croissant from a bakery at the other end of the city.

I stared at it.

Damian didn't know what my favorite pastry was.

Did he?

Taking the receipt from underneath the bag, I saw that written there were three words:

Recommended by Celeste.

Of course.

Putting the bag down, I suddenly lost my appetite.

Maria noticed my expression immediately.

"Mrs. Crowe…"

"I'm fine."

As usual.

Always fine.

Always smiling.

Always understanding.

The perfect wife.

I took my purse.

"Where are you going?" Maria asked.

"I don't know."

For the first time in my life...

That was the truth.

*****

The city seemed to be louder today than usual.

People rushed around carrying coffee cups and shopping bags.

Cars moved through the intersections.

Life went on.

Unaffected.

Walking aimlessly, I found myself standing in front of a bookstore.

Not stopping to think, I stepped inside.

The smell of paper and coffee surrounded me, quiet and warm.

More home-like than the mansion waiting for me at the other end of the city.

After spending almost an hour there, my phone rang.

It was Damian.

I stared at the screen.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Eventually, I answered.

"Hello?"

"Where are you?"

I frowned and answered

"Out."

"Where?"

That question sounded odd coming from him.

As if he wasn't used to not knowing.

"I don't know exactly."

Silence.

"Come home."

Not "please come home."

Not "are you alright?"

Just come home.

Looking out the window at the people around, I saw:

Couples laughing over coffee.

Mothers holding their kids' hands.

Ordinary people.

Ordinary love.

"I'll be back later."

I terminated the call.

Seconds later, my phone buzzed again.

This time a message.

From Damian.

Four words.

Four words that made me look at the screen unbelievingly.

Where are you, Aria?

I froze with my phone in my hands.

Because after four years of marriage...

After thousands of conversations...

After countless dinners and countless silences...

For the first time in four years...

My husband called me by my name