It was a quiet evening. The house smelled like fresh pasta. I had spent the whole afternoon preparing his favorite meal. I wore a soft blue dress I hadn’t worn in years, thinking maybe—just maybe—he would notice.
I sat beside him on the couch, watching him review some documents from his firm, and then finally asked him about my dream destination, Paris, which he’d promised me.
“Paris?” he repeated with a laugh, not even looking up from his laptop. “What for? You’re not that young anymore. Can’t we skip the formalities? It’s not important.”
I stood there, holding my breath like a delicate glass.
“You promised,” I said softly. “Twenty years ago. You said one day, when things are better, we’ll go. We’d celebrate properly.”
Kier leaned back in his chair and narrowed his eyes. “With what money? Are you using your savings? Oh, wait—you don’t have your own money.”
I blinked. “Can’t it be a gift? I just… want to enjoy something. After taking care of you. Of the kids. Of this house—”