Linda sat on the edge of the sofa in the dim living room light, listening to the washing machine hum softly on the other side of the wall. The night dragged on, like so many nights in the past two years. David was in no hurry to get home.
She knew he would come in soon without even looking at her, leave his briefcase by the door, and head straight for the bathroom. They would eat dinner in silence—if he wanted to. Then he would sit at his laptop, and if she tried to make conversation, he would just say, “I’m tired.
Talk to you later.”
It hadn’t been like this before. When they first moved in together, they would spend hours in the kitchen, talking about movies and planning trips. David would compliment her on her new dresses, gently caressing her back as he walked, and his voice sounded lively, not tired or irritable.
Now the house was quiet, even with the radio on. There was a click of the lock, followed by footsteps in the hallway. “In the dark again?” he asked, his voice flat and emotionless.
“Thinking,” she replied. He didn’t ask what she was thinking. He took off his shoes and coat, walked around her without looking at her, and headed for the bedroom.
The sound of water running into the tub was immediately audible. Linda closed her eyes. She didn’t need to look at him to imagine his displeased expression if she dared to speak about his “nonsense.” It had been a long time since he had asked her how her day had been.
She had loved that she wasn’t fussy or demanding; now she was annoyed that she no longer fit his image of “the wife of a successful man.”
She got up, went into the kitchen, and turned on the light. Dinner was in the refrigerator, but she hadn’t even warmed it up. “We’re having dinner at my parents’ house tomorrow,” David said, entering the kitchen as he buttoned his shirtsleeves.
“And please don’t wear… that.” He vaguely gestured to his old cardigan. “You know, the image, right?”
“What’s wrong with it?” she asked. “I can’t seem to buy you decent clothes,” he blurted out bluntly.
For the first time in a long time, Linda wanted to respond with something hurtful, something cutting… but the words wouldn’t come out. She just nodded. “Okay,” she murmured.
Satisfied, David grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator and returned to the bedroom. She stood there, the weight of his words spreading like a dense fog. The next morning they left the house together.
The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
TAP → NEXT PAGE → 👇
