"He's not here. He took the day off to go to his son's piano recital," the receptionist answered casually.
"Manager Whitney really is the perfect husband," she went on, chatting with the girl beside her. "Every time his wife comes by the office, he waits on her hand and foot. And he always takes time off for his son's events too."
Every drop of blood in my body rushed to my head.
Just a few days ago, my daughter had cried and begged to learn piano. Jayden had frowned, shoved her away, and snapped at her.
"Girls don't need to learn that stuff. It's a waste of time. Stop being so difficult!"
And now he was at his son's piano recital.
My daughter. She'd done nothing to deserve any of this.
I stood there like my soul had left my body.
"Ma'am? Are you still here? Which department are you from? What did you need Manager Whitney for?"
The receptionist noticed I hadn't moved and pressed me for answers.
"I'm his wife. We have a daughter. She's in preschool."
I didn't even know what I was saying.
I walked out in a daze.
I didn't notice the way she looked at me.
Maybe, in that moment, I looked like a lunatic.
I stumbled home in a fog.