2 WEEKS LATERCHRISTIANThis entire day had been weird. I had left home in a positive mood today. I’d had breakfast with my wife and our daughter, and drove the office after peppering a thousand sloppy kisses on Valerie’s face— Grandma kisses as she called it. But once I stepped foot into the building, it was like the veil of happiness had been lifted, and in its place, was a looming darkness. Stupid things kept going wrong, things that shouldn’t be wrong at all; like the photocopying machines not working, my secretary running into the office a late and sweaty mess, or the fact that the clients I was supposed to be meeting today had randomly decided to just not show up. I looked at the spreadsheets in front of me and groaned internally. I just wanted to be home with my family. My phone rang with a loud shrill. I looked at it in annoyance, contemplating whether I should answer it or not. Finally, with a sigh, I reached over and answered."Christian Walker speaking," I said, my voice m

The house was quiet. Hazel had once again gone to bed after another night of silence. She hadn’t eaten much dinner– that had become the norm recently. She barely touched her food, barely drank anything that was offered to her. She answered my questions with a soft hum or barely decipherable shakes of her head when i tried to engage her in any kind of conversation. She didn’t say a word to Tina, and that was saying a lot because they used to spend hours together just gossiping about nothing and everything at the same time. The only time I saw a ghost of a smile on her lips– albeit a fake one– was when she was talking to or playing with our daughter. She would try to keep up with Valerie’s young and bubbly energy for as long as she could, but she always gave up after a few hours, and when I saw that her fake smiles were beginning to be a little harder to keep up, I would gently steer Valerie away from her. And everytime, she would slowly go up the stairs to her room without so much as a

I woke up alone, my hand on cold, empty sheets. I wasn’t surprised—Hazel had been more restless than usual the past few nights, and even more so last night. More than once I had to pull her back to me, feeling the sobs she was trying to hide. I had held her silently, letting her emotions drain from her body. I ran a hand over my face and sat up. I would have a shower, then find her in the kitchen. I had to talk to her. There was so much to clear up—a great many things I needed to apologize for, so we could move forward—together. I didn’t think I actually gave her a deserving apology for the Chloe situation. U could only imagine how it must have made her feel to live with that woman for months, and having me constantly tell her that she was overreacting. It was insensitive of me. I was a fool.I swung my legs off the bed, grabbed my robe, and stood up. I began walking to the bathroom and stopped. My bedroom door was shut tight. Why was it closed? Was Hazel worried about disturbing me?

“I knew I’d find you here.”“What are you doing here?” I staggered backwards as Mark walked toward me, his arm slightly outstretched. “Relax,” he said. “I’m not here to cause any trouble.”“That’s rich, coming from you.”“Ouch,” he placed his hand on his chest in mock surprise, like he was genuinely hurt by what I’d just said.“All you’ve done is try to fuck my family over in different ways than I can even imagine. So forgive me if it’s a little hard for me to believe that ‘you’re not here to cause any trouble’.”“Family?” He asked, making a face like the word tasted bitter in his mouth. “Well, where’s this family that you speak of? I don’t see Christian Walker here. What kind of a husband is he if he doesn’t even know where his wife has been for a whole week?”I flinched, like he had physically smacked me with his words. Pain seared in my chest. A gust of wind hit me, and I shivered, pulling the thin blanket tighter around me. Mark frowned. “You’re shaking, we should go inside.”He

When we arrived back at the rustic cottage from the hospital, it was exactly how I pictured it in my head from the description in her journal—now that I was actually paying attention to it. A well-worn sofa and chair were in front of a fireplace. To the left was a rudimentary kitchen with a table and two chairs. An open door led to a small bedroom, and beside it, a bathroom. That was the entire cottage. I sat Hazel on the sofa and turned to the fireplace. Soot and smoke from years of use had settled into the stone and brick, turning the entire mantle a dull gray. I added some logs and kindling, wanting a fire to warm up the cool interior.“The flue sticks.” Hazel kneeled beside me, reaching past me to tug on the duct. She winced, and tried to hide it from me.I struck a match, making sure the kindling caught, then stood, replacing the small screen. Bending down, I brought her to her feet, tugging her damp jacket off her shoulders, tossing it to the side. Wrapping my arms around her, I