“It’s the day our son died,” I said. “The day the snow buried everything. The day you didn’t come back.”
His face changed. Just for a second. Regret, maybe. Or guilt. I couldn’t tell anymore.
“And… I’m allergic to mango,” I added, looking at the cake he was still holding out to me.
“Wife, I…” he started, “I didn’t know. I thought—”
“You didn’t think,” I cut in softly. “You just forgot.”
He stepped closer. “Chloe, wait. Don’t go like this. Let’s just talk, alright? You’re upset, I get it, but don’t shut me out.”
I shook my head and turned away. “I’m not upset. I’m just… done talking.”
I walked away, ignoring him calling after me, ignoring Chiara’s soft crying, ignoring the way his voice shifted when he started comforting her instead.
...
Back in my room, I shut the door and blocked everything out.
I didn’t know how long I slept. Maybe hours. Maybe longer.
A noise woke me up. Something moving downstairs. Voices, faint.
I opened my eyes slowly.
Drake was there, sitting by my bed, watching me like nothing had ever changed.
“Wife,” he said softly, his voice warm again, gentle like before. “You’re awake.”
I didn’t answer. I just stared at him.