Chapter Two: Cold

Mia arrived home long before Allen did.

As she unlocked the apartment door and stepped inside, the silence waiting for her felt strangely unfamiliar. Allen was almost always the one who returned late, but tonight the apartment seemed to be waiting with her.

The lights were still off. Only the glow of the city filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows, stretching long strips of pale light across the polished floor.

She did not reach for the light switch.

Instead, she remained by the entrance for several seconds with her keys still resting in her hand. The silence wrapped around her, heavy and uninviting, making the apartment feel much larger than it really was.

Slowly, she slipped off her heels.

One of them toppled onto its side and struck the floor with a loud sound that echoed through the empty apartment.

She flinched instinctively; the reaction surprised her.

She had managed to stand quietly in that restaurant without making a scene after seeing Allen with another woman, yet the sound of a falling shoe was enough to make her jump.

She set her handbag carefully on the kitchen counter.

Every movement felt deliberate, almost cautious, as though one careless motion would shatter something that had already begun to break.

She wandered into the living room without any real destination.

Her gaze drifted over the familiar furniture.

There was the sofa where she and Allen had once spent countless evenings watching old films until one of them inevitably fell asleep.

The coffee table remained clear; she disliked clutter.

Her eyes finally settled on the framed photograph displayed on the shelf.

It had been taken five years earlier at a charity gala.

Allen's arm had been wrapped securely around her waist, while she smiled at the camera with complete happiness. Looking at that photograph now felt like staring at two strangers who happened to be wearing their faces.

She reached for the frame.

Without anger or hesitation, she turned it over so the photograph faced the shelf.

She simply did not want to look at it anymore.

After a long moment, she walked to the bedroom wardrobe and opened the closet.

The gift she had hidden weeks earlier was still waiting exactly where she had left it.

The wrapping paper remained smooth, and the ribbon was tied as neatly as it had been on the day she bought it.

She lifted the box into her hands and stood there quietly.

She could still picture the expression she had imagined all those weeks.

She had expected Allen to look surprised when he opened it.

She had imagined the smile that would spread across his face and the gratitude that would soften his eyes.

That moment would never happen.

Without unwrapping it, she placed the gift back on the shelf and quietly closed the wardrobe door.

The kitchen looked exactly as she had left it earlier that evening.

The candles she had arranged before leaving for the restaurant were still standing on the counter.

They had never been lit.

Even so, she walked over and pinched out the untouched wicks, as though extinguishing a hope that had already died hours ago.

The unopened bottle of wine remained beside them.

It seemed to accuse her without saying a word.

Instead of pouring herself a glass, she filled a tumbler with water.

She drank half of it in one long swallow before setting it on the counter.

The remaining water stayed there untouched while she leaned against the marble surface and stared blankly into the distance.

The rest of the evening slipped by without any clear sense of time.

She sat in the living room for a while before wandering into the bedroom.

She returned to the kitchen, then back again, moving through every room as though she were seeing the apartment for the first time.

Every object reminded her of the life she and Allen had built together.

For reasons she could not explain, she found herself touching the furniture and decorations lightly with her fingertips, almost as though she were preparing herself to leave them behind.

She checked her phone more times than she wanted to admit.

No new messages appeared.

Eventually, she sat on the edge of the bed without bothering to change out of her dress.

She drew her knees close to her chest and wrapped her arms around them.

The ivory fabric suddenly felt fragile against her skin.

Only that morning it had represented hope.

Now it felt like a costume from a life that no longer belonged to her.

She concentrated on her breathing.

She inhaled slowly before releasing the breath just as carefully.

Again and again, she repeated the rhythm.

Allen will come home, she told herself.

There has to be an explanation.

Even in her own mind, the words sounded exhausted.

A little after ten o'clock, she heard the front door unlock.

The familiar sound of the key turning in the lock echoed through the apartment.

She remained exactly where she was.

Allen's footsteps crossed the hallway at their usual unhurried pace.

She heard him place his keys in the ceramic bowl by the entrance before shrugging out of his jacket.

"Mia?" he called.

She answered a moment later. "I'm in the bedroom."

A few seconds later, he appeared in the doorway while loosening his cufflinks.

He looked completely ordinary.

There was nothing about his expression to suggest that he had shattered her heart only a few hours earlier.

"You are still awake," he said.

"I was waiting for you."

He looked mildly surprised. "You were waiting for me?"

"I was waiting for tonight."

His expression changed a little.

"I am sorry," he replied. "Work kept me longer than I expected."

She nodded.

Allen stepped closer and pressed a brief kiss against her cheek.

The gesture felt automatic.

His lips barely brushed her skin before he pulled away.

She realised that her body no longer leaned instinctively toward him.

He did not seem to notice the difference.

"Have you eaten?" he asked while walking toward the wardrobe.

She shook her head. "No."

He paused briefly before looking back at her.

"You should eat something."

A bitter laugh almost escaped her lips. Instead, she swallowed it.

Allen changed out of his clothes with the same careful routine he followed every evening.

He folded his shirt neatly before placing it on the chair.

He removed his watch and laid it carefully on the dresser.

Twice, he glanced down at his phone while typing quick replies.

Mia watched him quietly.

Neither of them had moved very far from the other, yet she had never felt such an enormous distance between them.

Finally, she broke the silence. "Did you forget what today was?"

His hands stopped moving.

The hesitation lasted only a second before he answered.

"No. Of course I did not."

She waited for him to say more.

He never did.

"What happened tonight?" she asked gently.

Allen sighed and ran one hand through his hair.

"Work happened. You know how things can become complicated."

She held his gaze. "Did you have dinner?"

He hesitated again before answering.

"Yes."

"Where did you have dinner?"

A faint crease appeared between his brows.

"Why does that matter?"

Because I saw you.

Because I watched another woman make you smile.

Because she touched you with the familiarity that once belonged to me.

The words remained trapped inside her.

Instead, she said quietly, "I made a reservation for us."

Allen looked around the room as though he had only just realised there had been plans he had completely forgotten.

"Oh," he said softly. "I didn't realise."

His answer hurt far more than she expected.

"I still went," she told him.

"You went by yourself?"

"Yes."

"How was it?"

She forced herself to answer. "It was nice."

He accepted the answer without asking another question, just as he had accepted every compromise she had made throughout their marriage.

A few minutes later, he climbed into bed.

Within moments, he turned onto his side, leaving his back facing her.

The space between them felt wider than the mattress.

"We will celebrate this weekend," he murmured sleepily.

She continued looking at the opposite wall.

"I already have plans," she answered quietly.

He did not ask what those plans were. Within minutes, his breathing became slow and even.

Allen had always fallen asleep easily.

Mia remained awake.

She listened to the steady rhythm of his breathing, the faint hum of traffic beyond the windows, and the restless pounding of her own heart.

Eventually, she slipped carefully out of bed without waking him.

She walked into the bathroom and turned on the light.

The woman staring back at her from the mirror looked older than she remembered.

Her eyes carried a sadness that had not been there that morning.

She reached for her wedding ring.

Slowly, she twisted it around her finger before sliding it free.

The metal caught briefly against her knuckle, leaving behind a sharp sting.

She placed the ring on the bathroom counter beside the watch Allen had left there earlier.

Then she unlocked her phone.

She opened the notes application and created a new page.

For several moments, the screen remained blank.

Finally, she began to type.

Things I need to know.

She looked at the words for a long time.

From the bedroom, Allen shifted in his sleep and murmured something she could not understand.

She did not return immediately.

Instead, she opened another application and scheduled a doctor's appointment.

She needed certainty, nothing more.

When she finally returned to bed, she lay on her side with her back facing Allen.

She drew her knees close to her chest.

Almost without thinking, one hand came to rest protectively against her lower abdomen.

As she closed her eyes, she allowed herself to imagine a future that did not include her husband.

The thought frightened her more than anything she had ever imagined.

At the same time, it gave her a quiet strength she had not felt in a very long while.