Mark’s flight landed at 2:14 p.m. on a Sunday in late September. Jennie stood at the arrivals curb with the baby in a carrier strapped to her chest, the infant’s tiny fist curled against her collarbone. Her breasts were heavy—still swollen from the morning feeding, still leaking faintly through the nursing pads she’d finally started wearing again in public. The thin cotton of her blouse clung slightly where milk had seeped through. She smiled when Mark appeared through the glass doors—tanned, suitcase in hand, looking relieved to be home.
Victor had moved his things back to the guest room that morning. No words passed between them. He simply packed the small duffel he’d brought months earlier, carried it down the hall, and closed the door behind him. Jennie watched from the kitchen doorwa
