The morning light filtered softly through the blinds, dust motes dancing in its golden beams. Mike sat at the kitchen table, half-awake, his coffee growing cold in front of him. Diana stood at the counter, tying Liam's lunch bag shut with a neat knot while humming a tune Mike didn’t recognize.
Liam was in the living room, knees on the couch, peeking through the window with childlike curiosity. "Mommy, Karen has the same perfume as you!" he called out.
Diana paused, her hands still. "What do you mean, sweetie?"
"She smells like you. Like the purple bottle." Liam turned with a proud smile, proud to have noticed something so "grown-up."
Diana gave a distracted laugh and replied, "Maybe she used it once. I’ll check." She resumed packing, but Mike knew she didn’t forget. Diana never forgot
