She pouted as she said it, that particular brand of wifely complaint, half whine, half flirtation. Perfectly calibrated. Not too much, not too little.
She kicked off the covers, padded barefoot over to me, and straightened my collar. Then she unpacked my overstuffed bag and reorganized it properly.
She did it all with quiet focus, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
"Honey, at least eat breakfast before you go?"
"No time. The train won't wait."
She didn't push it.
At the door, she rose on her tiptoes, one hand curling around the back of my neck, and pressed her lips to mine.
A deep kiss.
Her lips were still soft, carrying that particular warmth of early morning.
She kissed me like she meant it, the tip of her tongue tracing the outline of my lips, slow and deliberate, like she was completing some kind of ritual.
Same as always.
"Be safe out there."
She stood in the doorframe wearing that silk camisole nightgown, smiling at me.
I nodded, turned, and stepped into the elevator.
The moment the doors closed, her smile vanished into the narrowing gap.
I took a cab to the train station and found a corner seat in the waiting hall.
I opened my phone and logged into Messenger.