Sanch

p, but my senses were heightened. Brenton stumbled in, his footsteps uneven, followed

s. Kenley smoothed his hair, her movements practiced, almost maternal. She looked

e had a bit too much to drink. I tried to stop him, but you know Bre

tached observation. "It's fine," I said, my voi

ley? Or maybe some tea?" I asked, treating her like any casual guest, not the woman who had jus

demeanor. "Oh, no, thank you, Ca

ot upset. And certainly not worried." My words were true. The ol

hing Brenton' s family wanted. I understood why he preferred her. She fit. She effortlessly embodied the image he

his voice rough with sleep and a hangover. "Carley, can you get me some of that lemon ginger tea?

project. I didn't even turn around. "I'm busy, Brenton," I said, my voice

His eyes widened slightly, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. "Busy? C

looking up. "I have deadlines." I retreated f

ble challenge for him. It dawned on him that his personal maid service was no longer available. A profound sense of loss, a hollow ac

under his breath. He blamed me for his discomfort, f

. "Carley, this is ridiculous. You need to leave. Now." His voice w

stripped away any last vestiges of our shared history. Ten years of building a home together, of him

ly a whisper, "can I just have o

ay here. We're not together. Get out." He looked at me with cold,

ght. Housing insecurity for women, especially after long-te

d, a future I' d envisioned as his wife, in this very home. This place, which I had poured my heart into, now felt like a cage I needed t