Chapter Twenty-Eight: The Dutiful Husband
1220 Words
Ethan noticed it on a Wednesday.
Not because Clara said anything, but because she announced it or explained herself. He noticed it because the house felt different when he came home.
The lights were still off.
He stood just inside the doorway longer than usual, briefcase still in his hand, listening. There's no sound coming from the kitchen, and no sound of Clara moving around upstairs...
“She’s not home yet,” he muttered to himself.
He checked his watch, and it was seven-thirty already.
Clara was usually home by six thirty. Seven, at the latest. Even on busy days, she texted, telling him she would be late and not to wait for her. Instead, his mobile phone is so quiet.
Ethan set his briefcase down and loosened his tie. He told himself not to jump to conclusions. Projects normally run late, meetings are longer than expected, and it happens, especially at their line of work.
Ethan walked to the kitchen to get some water from the fridge when he suddenly
saw a note at the counter.
"I'll be working late, please don't wait for me... CLARA."
Ethan stared at the note, longer than he needed to.
“Okay,” he said softly. “That’s fine.”
He folded the note and slid it into his pocket without thinking. Then he stopped, frowned, and pulled it back out. He smoothed it flat on the counter again, as if returning it might undo the feeling tightening in his chest.
He made himself a simple pasta. He ate standing up, scrolling through emails he had already read.
The at nine-fifteen in the evening, Clara still wasn’t home.
At ten, he moved to the living room and turned on the television without really watching it.
When the front door finally opened at ten forty-three, Ethan didn’t jump. He didn’t rush to greet her. He stayed where he was, listening.
Clara’s heels clicked softly on the tile. Her bag dropped onto the console table. She exhaled—long and tired.
“Ethan?” she called.
“In here.”
She stepped into the living room, her blazer draped over her arm, her hair slightly loose from its usual neat style. She looked exhausted. Not the kind of tired that came from long hours, but the kind that sat behind the eyes.
“You didn’t have to stay up,” she said.
He muted the TV. “I wasn’t waiting.”
Clara gave her an observant look, then afterwards, she speaks again.
“You okay?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he said easily. “You?”
She hesitated for half a second. “It has been a very long day.”
“Conference follow-ups?”
“Mm. Meetings.”
“With the redevelopment team?”
“Yes.”
He nodded. “I figured.”
Ethan felt it clearly, like standing at the edge of something. He could ask of she spent her time with Daniel Lee, but he decided not to...
“Want me to make you something?” he asked instead.
Clara shook her head. “I grabbed something earlier.”
She set her bag down and sank onto the couch, kicking off her heels. She leaned back and closed her eyes.
Ethan watched her.
They sat there in silence, the television still muted. The quiet wasn’t awkward, exactly. But it wasn’t comfortable either.
Clara opened her eyes and glanced at the clock. “I should shower.”
“Take your time,” he said.
She stood and paused, looking at him like she wanted to say something else. Instead, she just nodded and headed upstairs.
Ethan stayed on the couch long after he heard the shower turn on.
But the same "late night meetings" became a pattern. Clara consistently comes home late, her phone ringing more often, and she steps outside to that calls. She also brought her laptop into the bedroom instead of leaving it on the desk downstairs...
On Friday evening, he waited until she came home before eating.
“You didn’t have to do this.” Clara said, surprised.
“I wanted to,” he replied.
They ate together at the kitchen table. Halfway through the meal, her phone lit up beside her plate.
She glanced at it for some few seconds, then flipped it face down.
Ethan saw the name before it disappeared.
Daniel L.
His fork paused midair.
Clara kept talking. “The city council is being difficult about zoning approvals. It’s going to delay everything if—”
“Clara.”
She stopped, and looked at him. “What?”
He shook his head. “Nothing... Sorry, please continue.”
She studied him for a moment. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
She hesitated, then continued. But something had shifted. Her voice became more careful.
After dinner, she went upstairs to work. Ethan stayed behind, cleaning dishes that didn’t need cleaning.
Later that night, Clara slid into bed beside him, already half asleep.
“Goodnight,” she murmured.
“Goodnight.”
She was asleep within minutes, but Ethan still lays awake in his own room...
========================================
Saturday morning, Ethan found her already dressed, coffee in hand, keys on the counter.
“You’re heading out?” he asked.
“Just for a bit. Daniel asked for feedback on a revision. It’s easier in person.”
There it was again. Clara is looking so casual and professional.
“Oh,” Ethan said. “Okay.”
“I’ll be back by early afternoon.”
“Take your time.”
She hesitated. “You’re not upset?”
“Why would I be?”
She studied his face, searching. “It’s just work.”
“I know.”
That seemed to satisfy her.
“I’ll text you.”
When the door closed behind her, the house felt too quiet...
Ethan stood there for a long moment, staring at the empty doorway.
=====================================
Few moments have passed, and Clara came home at two thirty.
“You’re back earlier than I thought,” Ethan said.
She smiled. “We wrapped things up.”
“We?”
She paused. “Daniel and I.”
“Right.”
She watched him carefully. “Is everything okay?"
“Of course.”
“You’ve been quiet today.”
“Just tired.”
She nodded, accepting that answer too easily. “I might head back out later. There’s more to finalize.”
“Tonight?”
“Probably.”
Ethan took a breath. “Clara.”
“Yes?”
He met her eyes. and he almost asked the question that has been going on his head for quite some time now about Daniel Lee...
Instead, he said, “Don’t forget to eat.”
She blinked, then smiled softly. “I won’t.”
========================================
Sunday morning, Ethan was already up when Clara came downstairs.
“Morning,” she said.
“Morning.”
She poured coffee and leaned against the counter. “You’re quiet.”
“So are you.”
She sighed. “I don’t want this to feel strange."
“Then tell me it isn’t.”
She looked at him. “It isn’t.”
He nodded. “Okay.”
But as Clara turned away, Ethan knew something had changed. He had a feeling that silence—his silence—was going to cost him more than he expected.
- Writer
