I wanted to believe her, that she had been lying next to me all night. She never left.
But the perfume clinging to her skin wasn’t hers. The scent of shower gel, one that didn’t belong in this house, lingered on her.
I forced a smile. “I'm not hungry. You should go to work.”
She hesitated but got up anyway, heading downstairs. Soon, the sound of eggs sizzling filled the air, the scrape of a knife against the cutting board.
From the outside, everything seemed normal. But the fresh scratches on her neck and the dark red marks on her arms told another story.
By the time she came back upstairs, she was dressed, makeup light but perfect. She leaned in, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “Don't go to work today. Just rest.”
Years ago, when her business was just starting out, the audit reports had errors. She barely slept, barely ate. The stress wore her down. That company was everything to her and I couldn’t just stand by and watch.
So I took the fall. Became the guy who "saved" everything—the big hero, the perfect fiancé. Now that the company was running smoothly, I had no reason to go back. But that wasn’t why she wanted me to stay home.