Seeing my pale face, he softened his tone.
“Looks like we’ll have to find a new place to sleep tonight.”
As he opened the closet to find new bedding, he accidentally knocked a picture frame off the shelf. It shattered on the floor.
Ethan, looking guilty, picked up the pieces and tried to explain.
“The frame fell. I was afraid it would break, so I took it down. Didn’t expect to drop it anyway. Just make sure the nails are secure when you hang it back up.”
I gave a noncommittal response, taking the duvet from him and heading to the guest room.
Ethan rubbed his nose and resignedly began tidying up the room.
When I woke up in the guest room, the sun was already high in the sky. Ethan hadn’t come to the guest room last night, and surprisingly, I slept remarkably well.
Stretching lazily, I wandered into the living room and spotted a breakfast laid out on the table with a note.
“Babe, I’m off to work. Remember to eat breakfast. Be good!”
The same gentle and caring tone. But today, the message felt tainted. The breakfast, once a symbol of love, now seemed laced with ulterior motives.
I grimaced and tossed breakfast and notes into the trash bin.