Ella.
In the morning, Kane appears deathly pale, clutching his head as he shuffles into the kitchen.
“How’s your head, love?” I asked softly, careful not to worsen his headache.
He looks up at me, “pounding”
“Sit. I will grab you a coffee and some painkillers,”
He obeys without hesitation, taking a seat at the table.
“You’re late for work,” I remarked, setting the pills and his cup on the table.
Tilting his head back, he drops the pills into his mouth and sarcastically remarks, “No s**t, Sherlock.”
I ask “Are you planning to go in today?”
He stands up abruptly, muttering a quiet “Uh-huh” and walking away, his cup in hand.
That went well, I sit and eat my breakfast.
Today, I’m planning to take a trip to the store because we’re running low on food.
When Kane leaves, I waited fo
