Gemotions

He'd tried to act normal. But she noticed the way his smile didn't quite reach his eyes. The way he kept his phone glued to his ear in the car. It was always "a client," always "urgent."

She decided to rearrange the furniture in the living room. She moved the sofa, the coffee table, the chairs. She changed the pictures on the wall. A subtle act of claiming her territory, of reminding him who built this life, what she had given up.

He'd hate it. That was the point.

The phone rang. He rushed to answer it, in the hall. She could hear his muffled voice. She smiled.