Going home pretending normal
I came back at the usual time. Ethan was in the kitchen, smiling, light, thirty years younger than me and apparently in love.
“How was my little wife’s day?” he kissed me on the cheek.
For the first time, his contact caused me a chill. I told her I was tired. He, helpful as always, offered to prepare my drink a little earlier that night. I smiled and accepted.
For the next few days I acted as if nothing had changed, but I never had any drink again. He kept an identical bottle of water by the bed and, when he left the room, he would empty the glass into a hidden container and fill it.ad
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