After finalizing the arrangements to leave in five days, I hung up and sank back into bed. A heavy weight lifted from my chest, replaced by an eerie calm. Sleep came quickly, pulling me into its merciful embrace.
***
Five days later, the house smelled of a feast as Harry prepared for our seventh wedding anniversary. I woke to the sound of his humming downstairs, the aroma of dinner wafting up to the bedroom. For a moment, I lay still, staring at the ceiling, wondering if I was making the right choice.
A knock at the door broke the fragile peace.
“Harry, the power’s out at my house,” came a soft, sugary voice from the hall. “I’m so afraid of the dark. Can I stay here for the night?”
I knew that voice. Evelyn. His good friend’s cousin, the woman who looked like a younger version of me but with sharper edges and an undeniable boldness.
I sat up, listening as Harry hesitated. “No way,” he said firmly. “Clarissa doesn’t like having outsiders stay in our home.”