Chapter 1

Michael was back, or so he said.

He moved through our house like a reluctant guest, not the man who' d sworn vows here.

The air between us was thick, heavy with things unsaid, things he refused to say.

Last night, I scrolled through a social media poll, the question stark: "Who does a man feel more guilt towards after an affair ends: his wife or his lover?"

"Lover" was winning, by a landslide.

I showed it to him this morning, my voice carefully neutral.

"Interesting, don't you think?"

Michael barely glanced at my phone. He was stirring his coffee, his back mostly to me.

"Sarah, can we not? I'm here. Isn't that enough?"

His voice was tired, like my question was a massive burden, another unreasonable demand.

He sighed, a sound I was beginning to hate.

"Look, the university awards dinner is next Friday. Professor Albright will be there. It' s important for my image, for my tenure. You should come with me."

He turned then, a small, forced smile on his lips.

"It' ll be good for us. Show everyone we' re... fine."

Fine. We were anything but fine.

The invitation felt like another performance he expected me to give.

I nodded slowly. "Alright, Michael. I'll go."

He seemed relieved, too quickly.

"Good. That's good."

He finished his coffee and left the kitchen, leaving me with the poll still glowing on my phone screen and the echo of his weariness.

The peace in our home was a fragile, ugly thing.