The living room felt too big and too empty around me. The curtains were half-drawn, letting in a dull light that painted everything gray. I sat curled up on the couch with my knees tucked close to me, the soft hum of the fridge in the kitchen the only sound besides the steady tick-tock of the wall clock. My phone rested on my lap, the bright screen still showing the message from my husband.
Business trip. Back in a few days.
That was all he wrote. No “I miss you.” No “I love you.” Not even a simple smiley face like he used to send when we first married. My fingers tightened around the phone until my knuckles turned white. A part of me wanted to throw it across the room, but instead I just locked the screen and placed it gently on the table, as if the phone itself might shatter me if I wa
