“I’m just thinking.”
***
The night before, my husband had flipped through the grocery receipts at the table, frowning at every line. Twelve dollars for Ethan’s birthday cake. Six dollars for the candles. He’d set them down without a word, and that silence had felt louder than any argument.
***
My phone buzzed against the counter. It was Caroline.
“Hey, Mare,” my sister said when I picked up after moving to the hallway. “How was the birthday dinner?”
“Quiet. Richard barely looked at him,” I said softly.
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