“Oh,” he exhaled, laughing a little. “Oh, thank God. You scared me for a second. I thought… never mind.” He kissed my knuckles. “That’s a wonderful idea, baby. Go on. Let’s leave whenever you want. Book it. Anywhere you want to go. I’ll clear my schedule.”
“Really?” I asked, widening my eyes.
“Really,” he promised. “Anything for you.”
For the next two days, I played the part of the recovering, hopeful wife perfectly. I talked about Italy. I looked at hotels with him. I let him hold my hand.
On the second night—my last night before the flight—Nathan surprised me.
“Get dressed,” he said, coming into the room with a velvet box in his hand. Inside was a diamond necklace. “I got us tickets to The Phantom of the Opera. I know it’s your favorite.”
I stared at the necklace. It was beautiful. Expensive. And it felt like a shackle.
“Thank you,” I said, letting him clasp it around my neck.
We went to the theater. We sat in a private box. The music swelled, the chandelier rose, and for a fleeting moment, I let myself get lost in the story. I remembered when we first saw this show, years ago. I had cried during the final scene, and Nathan had held my hand, wiping my tears.