The smell of rice with garlic and sautéed vegetables filled the narrow kitchen of the apartment.
My feet ached, but I kept stirring the pan with the wooden spoon, trying not to overthink. It was Friday. The house was silent—no music, no footsteps, no shouting. Roger still hadn't arrived. And as strange as it seemed... it was the first time this week that he was coming home early.
Maybe this was a sign.
Maybe today he would be calmer. More present.
Maybe.
I turned off the stove, adjusted my hair with my fingers, and went to the small cupboard. I grabbed the two least chipped plates and set them on the table along with the glass cups. Everything simple. Everything clean. Everything in order, the way he liked it.
I looked around, scanning the worn-out furniture, the wobbly chairs, the o
