Russell appeared behind her, his bow tie loosened, champagne forgotten in his hand. He had heard everything. His shoulders squared, but his voice stayed even.
“She’ll get exactly what she deserves,” he said.
Marlene smiled as though he had handed her a victory. I carried that sentence away like a bruise.
The months that followed were quieter than I had imagined. Russell remembered peppermint tea after difficult nights. He left the curtains slightly open because I could not sleep in complete darkness. One morning, when I pushed my toast away, he looked at me with a tenderness I did not know how to receive.
“You don’t have to earn your coffee,” he said.
I laughed, unsteady. I had spent my whole life earning every small kindness. Somewhere between the tea, the curtains, and a Tuesday in October when he reached for my hand at a red light, I stopped pretending. Maybe I had accepted because I was exhausted from drowning, but I stayed because I loved him.
