Back at the mall.
The gift was finally packaged.
The elegant box was tied with a dark plum ribbon.
Raina accepted it.
Then immediately handed it to Harrison.
The gesture was so natural.
So detached.
That it stunned him.
Because it felt like she was handling work.
Not participating in a family moment.
Not helping her husband.
Just completing a task.
Nothing more.
“Done.”
She stood.
“I’ll head back.”
Harrison frowned.
“Already?”
“We finished.”
“We can have lunch.”
“No need.”
The words came out automatically.
Without thought.
Without hesitation.
Exactly the way she always answered him now.
No need.
No need to explain.
No need to talk.
No need to hope.
No need to care.
The same two words.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Like tiny cuts.
Individually insignificant
