It was barely 6:00 a.m. when I dragged myself out of bed, still feeling weak and dizzy from the flood of tears I had cried the night before. My eyes were swollen, my head heavy. I shuffled into the bathroom, splashed cold water on my face, and stared at my reflection for a long moment before drying off and walking quietly to the living room.
Richard was asleep on the couch, curled up awkwardly with no blanket covering him. The room was chilly, and I could see goosebumps on his arms from the cold. He hadn’t come to the bedroom door last night. He hadn’t knocked or tried to force his way in. He had simply given me the space I needed. For the first time in hours, a small, sad smile touched my lips.
I squatted gently in front of him and brushed my fingers across his stressed, sleepy face. Hi
