Xavier
Olive had left for work hours earlier, her usual brisk kiss on my cheek barely registering as she hurried out the door with promises to be back by dinner.
The house felt unusually quiet with just the two of us remaining….. me and my mother-in-law, Eleanor, who had arrived the previous evening for one of her weekend visits. Olive insisted on these stays, claiming it kept her stepmother from sinking too deeply into loneliness after the passing of Olive’s father.
Eleanor had been his third wife, a woman still vibrant in her early fifties, with curves that spoke of a life lived fully and a quiet sadness that lingered in her eyes whenever the conversation turned to the past.
I had retreated to the bedroom after lunch, intending only to unwind for a few minutes. The argument with Ol
