He didn't say a word. The line went dead.
Molly didn't call back. He found her tiresome enough already.
...
The next day, Miles finally came home around noon.
The house where he and Molly had started their marriage had become well-ordered since she moved in—every plant and piece of furniture arranged with care. To him, though, it felt like a stranger's home.
He had barely stepped into the foyer when the housekeeper approached. "Sir, Mrs. Vance sat in the living room all night. She only went upstairs a short while ago."
Miles acknowledged her with a nod and had the driver leave his luggage in the living room before heading upstairs.
The guest bedroom door was open. Inside, everything was neat and organized. Molly was still wearing yesterday's clothes, carefully placing books from the shelf into a cardboard box.
She heard him and turned around.
When she saw him, there was none of the eager delight that used to light up her face.
They regarded each other in silence for a moment. When she didn't speak, Miles couldn't be bothered to say anything either. He loosened his tie and retreated to his own room.
Even after marriage, they were strangers under the same roof.
Molly smiled bitterly to herself.