Chapter 3:
1152 Words
Friday evening draped itself over the house like a heavy curtain, dimming everything. Jessica moved quietly through the kitchen, her hands busy with dinner, but her thoughts tangled and heavy. Calvin had been home all day, brooding. The children were upstairs, their laughter muted by the walls. She welcomed the sound—it meant they were still innocent. Still untouched by the cold tension lingering between their parents.
Calvin sat in the living room, reading reports on his tablet, cigarette smoke curling like ghosts around him. His suit jacket hung neatly on the back of the couch, his tie loosened but still immaculate—always immaculate. Jessica had barely spoken to him since his return that morning. He hadn’t kissed her hello. He hadn’t kissed her in months.
"Dinner's almost ready," she said softly.
He didn’t respond. Just a slow exhale of smoke.
She flinched, more out of habit than surprise.
Upstairs, Lucy was telling Samuel a story, her voice animated, rising and falling like music. Jessica could imagine her daughter twirling in her favorite pink skirt, Samuel watching with wide, amused eyes. They were light—little stars in a dark house.
Lucy’s View
Lucy knew something wasn’t right. She was only seven, but she wasn’t dumb. When Daddy was away, Mommy smiled more. She danced in the kitchen and sang along to old songs while brushing Lucy's hair. But when Daddy came home, the songs stopped. Mommy got quiet.
Lucy didn’t like the way her mommy’s eyes looked when Daddy was around—like they were always watching for something that might happen.
"Don’t worry," she whispered to Samuel as they sat cross-legged on the carpet. "I'll tell you a happy story today. One where the dragon isn’t scary."
Samuel nodded and rested his chin in his hands. He didn’t say much when Daddy was home either. Lucy noticed that too.
Samuel’s View
Samuel was five, and the world didn’t always make sense to him. But he knew what silence meant. It meant Mommy was sad. It meant Daddy might get mad.
He loved when Mommy hugged him. She smelled like cinnamon and something warm. When Daddy was away, she hugged more. She sat beside him and listened when he talked about his toy trucks or how the clouds looked like animals.
But when Daddy came back, Mommy got tired. Her hugs were shorter, her eyes didn’t smile as much.
He didn’t hate Daddy. Daddy sometimes gave him toys. Sometimes lifted him up and said, "My boy." But it felt like those moments were just for pictures or when other people were watching.
Back to Jessica
The dinner table was quieter than usual.
Calvin sat at the head, surveying everything like a king. Lucy chatted cheerfully about school, waving her fork in the air, while Samuel nodded and giggled between bites of mashed potatoes.
Jessica tried to hold the moment together.
"That's great, sweetheart," she said to Lucy, smiling gently. "I'm glad your art project went well."
Calvin cleared his throat.
Lucy froze mid-sentence.
Jessica’s heart sank. She saw it coming before it arrived.
"Lucy," he said sharply. "Don't talk with your mouth full. It's rude."
Lucy’s smile faltered. She nodded quickly, her eyes dropping to her plate.
Jessica opened her mouth to soften the moment, but Calvin glanced at her—just a flick of the eye—and she said nothing.
After dinner, Jessica tucked Samuel into bed. He curled up close to her, his small hand clutching her sleeve.
"Mommy," he whispered, "I like when Daddy’s not here. You smile more."
Her throat tightened. She stroked his hair gently, brushing it from his forehead.
"I smile because of you," she whispered back. "And Lucy."
In Lucy’s room, Jessica found her daughter sitting at the window, hugging a pillow.
"Do you think Daddy likes me?" Lucy asked quietly.
Jessica's breath caught. She crossed the room and wrapped her arms around her daughter.
"Of course he does," she said, but her voice wavered.
Lucy didn’t answer. She just leaned into her mother and closed her eyes.
Downstairs, Calvin poured another drink.
The cracks were deepening. Jessica felt them in her bones, in her breath, in the way the silence between her and Calvin felt like a third person always watching.
And still, she stayed.
Because of Lucy. Because of Samuel.
Because somewhere deep inside, she was still trying to save a man who didn’t want to be saved.
Later That Night
The house had gone quiet. Calvin was still downstairs, sipping bourbon in the glow of the TV, the volume low. Jessica sat on the edge of their bed, brushing her hair out of habit. She stared at her reflection in the vanity mirror—not really seeing herself, but the version of her Calvin had chiseled down over the years.
She remembered a night long ago, back when she and Calvin were still new, still fresh. He had come home early from a business trip. Flowers in one hand, a bottle of wine in the other. His smile was soft, not rehearsed. They had eaten on the floor of their apartment, laughing about something silly on TV. He had kissed her neck and whispered she was his world.
That night, he made love to her slowly, with intention. No words, just touch. And Jessica, young and full of hope, had believed it meant something unbreakable.
She shook the memory away, biting her lip to stop the tears.
A floorboard creaked.
Calvin stepped into the room, the smell of smoke and whiskey trailing behind him.
"You're still up," he said flatly.
Jessica nodded. "I was just... getting ready for bed."
He sat on the edge of the mattress, the bed dipping under his weight.
"I saw you tucked the kids in. Samuel looked peaceful."
Jessica blinked. That was the closest to softness she'd heard from him in months.
"He is peaceful. They both are," she replied. "They don’t know what we do."
He didn’t answer. His hand slid across the bedspread and touched hers. It was strange—too light to be affectionate, too heavy to ignore.
"You used to wear lipstick," he said suddenly. "Back when we met. That deep red one."
Jessica blinked again. Her hand trembled.
"I still have it. Somewhere."
"Put it on tomorrow," he said, standing. "You looked better with it."
And just like that, the moment vanished.
Jessica stared at the closed door for a long time before finally sliding under the sheets. Alone. Again.
Down the Hall
Lucy lay awake, listening. She heard the door to her parents' room shut, heard her mommy moving. And then silence.
She turned to Samuel, who was fast asleep beside her, his thumb in his mouth.
"One day," she whispered, "we'll live in a house with more light. And Mommy will sing all the time."
Then, she closed her eyes and pretended she was already there.
- Writer
