Morning crept into the house quietly, the kind of quiet that felt deliberate, almost judgmental. Pale sunlight filtered through the sheer kitchen curtains, resting softly on the marble countertop, but nothing about the house felt warm.
Karen was already awake.
She stood at the kitchen island in one of Roy’s oversized shirts, sleeves rolled up clumsily, hair pulled into a loose ponytail that kept slipping. A frying pan sat on the stove, eggs half-scrambled, toast browning in the toaster. She kept glancing toward the hallway that led to the bedrooms, anticipation written all over her face.
Today was different, she told herself.
Today, she was a wife.
Footsteps finally echoed down the hall.
Roy appeared at the kitchen entrance, freshly showered, already dressed halfway for work—white sh
