I thought it's Hudson but it wasn't.
Amber walked in.
She looked soft, fragile, eyes still a little red like she’d been crying for hours. In her hands was a basket of fruit, neatly wrapped like this was some kind of polite visit.
“Ms. Hereford…” she said gently, stepping closer. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to trouble you like this again.”
I looked at her but didn’t say anything.
She placed the basket down and gave me a small smile. “Thank you. Really… if it wasn’t for you, my mom wouldn’t have made it. You saved her.”
Her voice softened, almost sweet but it's fake.
“Thank you for being such a devoted slave to my husband— I mean… devoted wife to Hudson.”
My fingers twitched slightly on the blanket.
Slave?
“Do you want some apples?” she asked, already reaching for one. “I’ll peel it for you.”
“I’m fine,” I said quietly.
She didn’t stop.
The knife slid against the apple skin in slow, careful strokes. The sound was soft, almost soothing. Almost.
“I really didn’t expect…” she continued, her voice turning distant, like she was drifting somewhere else. “After all these years, he’s still like that with me.”
My chest tightened.