Chương 4
The suitcase.
Florence’s hands.
Christopher’s voice.
Don’t disrespect my mother.
Sabrina stared at the ceiling and waited for the familiar ache to settle into her chest.
It did.
But underneath it was something else.
Space.
She had forgotten what it felt like to wake up without immediately preparing herself for someone else’s mood.
At Christopher’s house, mornings had become a quiet calculation.
Was Florence in the kitchen?
Was Christopher stressed about work?
Had Sabrina forgotten something that would become an issue later?
Was there a comment waiting for her before she had finished her first cup of coffee?
She hated that she had adapted to it so completely.
Leah knocked lightly on the bedroom door.
“You awake?”
“Unfortunately.”
Leah opened the door halfway.
“That’s dramatic for someone who slept eight hours.”
“I didn’t sleep.”
“You snored.”
Sabrina turned her head.
“I do not snore.”
“You absolutely do.”
A small smile appeared before Sabrina could stop it.
It disappeared quickly, but Leah noticed.
“There she is.”
Sabrina sat up.
“Don’t make it a thing.”
“I’m not making it a thing.”
“You’re making it a thing with your face.”
“My face is just happy you smiled.”
Sabrina looked down.
She wanted to enjoy the moment, but guilt arrived immediately.
That was another habit she had developed.
Any moment of comfort felt like betrayal.
If she laughed with Leah, she wondered if she was being unfair to Christopher.
If she felt relief away from the house, she wondered if that meant she had failed.
She got dressed quietly.
The sweater she wore was the same one from the previous day.
The sleeves were stretched slightly from where she had pulled at them while standing beside the suitcase.
Leah noticed.
“You need clothes.”
“I have clothes.”
“In that suitcase?”
“Yes.”
“That suitcase you packed while panicking?”
Sabrina looked toward the living room.
“It’s fine.”
Leah leaned against the doorframe.
“You always say things are fine right before they become impossible.”
The comment was not cruel.
That was why it bothered Sabrina.
Because it was true.
After breakfast, Sabrina drove to her office.
She had taken the day off, but she needed something familiar.
Something that belonged only to her.
Her workplace was a small design firm on the third floor of an older building downtown.
The walls were painted white.
The coffee machine was terrible.
The printer always made a strange clicking noise before working.
She loved it.
Not because it was perfect.
Because it was hers.
When she entered the office, her coworker Maya looked up from her computer.
“Sabrina?”
She stopped.
“You’re here.”
“I needed to pick something up.”
Maya studied her face.
“You okay?”
Sabrina hesitated.
The question felt different coming from someone who did not already know the answer.
“I’m dealing with some things.”
Maya nodded slowly.
Not pushing.
Not ignoring.
Just accepting.
“I’ll pretend I didn’t see you stealing office coffee packets.”
Sabrina glanced at the drawer near the kitchen.
“I don’t steal.”
Maya smiled.
“You once took twelve packets before a business trip.”
“I paid for them.”
“You left three dollars.”
“It was enough.”
“For twelve?”
“They were tiny.”
The normal conversation felt strange.
Almost painful.
Because it reminded her that she was still a person outside the marriage.
She spent an hour at her desk answering emails and looking through project notes.
Her concentration came and went.
Every few minutes, she checked her phone.
No messages from Christopher.
At noon, one finally arrived.
Can we talk tonight?
Sabrina stared at the screen.
She did not answer immediately.
The old Sabrina would have responded within seconds.
The new Sabrina was learning that waiting was not cruelty.
Sometimes waiting was the only way to hear herself think.
She placed the phone face down.
Ten minutes later, she picked it up again.
She typed:
Okay.
Then deleted it.
She typed:
About what?
Deleted that too.
Finally, she wrote:
Yes.
The simplicity bothered her.
But maybe simplicity was better than pretending she had answers.
That evening, Christopher arrived at Leah’s apartment.
Sabrina almost did not recognize him when she opened the door.
Not because he looked different.
Because he looked uncertain.
Christopher had always been someone who moved through rooms like he belonged there.
Even when he was wrong, he carried himself like he expected the situation to eventually adjust around him.
Now he stood outside Leah’s apartment holding his keys and looking uncomfortable.
“Can I come in?”
Sabrina stepped aside.
Leah had already left to give them privacy.
Not because she believed everything would be fixed.
Because she understood some conversations had to happen without an audience.
Christopher sat on the edge of the couch.
Sabrina remained standing.
The distance between them felt intentional.
“I talked to my mom,” he said.
Sabrina waited.
“She’s upset.”
A familiar frustration rose.
“Christopher.”
“What?”
“You came here to tell me your mother is upset?”
“No.”
He looked down.
“I’m trying to explain.”
“Then explain.”
He rubbed his hands together.
A nervous habit Sabrina had seen hundreds of times.
“My mom thinks you’re leaving because of her.”
Sabrina looked away.
“Is she wrong?”
Christopher did not answer.
That silence told her enough.
“She thinks she’s losing you,” he said.
Sabrina looked back at him.
“I’m not taking you away from her.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
Christopher’s face tightened.
“Yes.”
“Because yesterday it felt like you were more worried about protecting her from feeling uncomfortable than protecting me from being hurt.”
He looked down.
The silence stretched.
Then he said something Sabrina did not expect.
“I know I handled it badly.”
The words should have brought relief.
They did not.
Because an apology without understanding was only a pause before the next mistake.
Sabrina sat across from him.
“What does badly mean?”
Christopher looked confused.
“What?”
“What did you do wrong?”
He opened his mouth.
Closed it.
The answer was not coming easily.
May you like
That hurt more than if he had become defensive.
“I should have stopped her from going through your things,” he said finally.
