She was attentive to my feelings. If anyone disrespected me, she was the first to shut it down.
When I was upset, she'd speak to me softly until the storm passed.
She told me that once the company was stable, she wanted to have a child together—a happy little family of three.
Today was the first time she'd felt like a different person entirely.
I went home.
I stood in front of our wedding portrait, staring at it, unable to stop the question gnawing at me—had three years of tenderness all been an act?
Then something caught my eye.
The portrait looked like it had been shifted recently. I reached up and lifted it off the wall.
Behind it was another photograph.
Marlene and Miles.
It looked like it had been taken years ago. They were young, sitting beneath a canopy of cherry blossoms, their smiles sickeningly sweet.
In that moment, everything crystallized. No matter how much life had battered her, Marlene had never forgotten Miles Sullivan. Not for a single day.
Everything she'd done—the devoted wife, the perfect partner—had been a performance. All for the company.
Buzz. Buzz.
My phone vibrated. Marlene's name on the screen.
"Dad wants us to come for dinner."