Chapter 1
We had been in a cold war for four days when my husband, the surgeon, posted a photo of himself at a cocktail reception with his female assistant. I didn't bother replying, but I quietly submitted my resignation anyway.
Ten days later, he pushed open the front door to find the apartment stripped down to just him.
"Can you not hover around me like that, Sarah?"
"I haven't said a word."
"It's that expression on your face. It's more exhausting than staying up all night arguing. Do you have the slightest idea what it's like for me in the OR? I come home every day to find you sulking, and I honestly feel like I'm the one who can't breathe around here."
"Charles, let's just not talk to each other."
"Fine. Whatever you want."
The lock clicked shut, and the sound of it sealed us into two entirely separate worlds. After that moment, my husband Charles Bennett and I went four whole days without a single word passing between us.
*****
By the evening of that fourth day, I had just dragged myself through an endless remote video meeting. I pressed my fingers against my throbbing temples and, without really thinking about it, opened Twitter.
The first thing that appeared was a post from Charles, uploaded more than an hour ago.
It was a set of nine photos arranged in a grid, with the center image featuring him together with a young woman.
The photo was taken in a glittering hotel ballroom, where long tables draped in cream-colored linen held row after row of crystal glasses, and the chandeliers illuminated every smile in the room with merciless clarity.
Charles wore a deep navy bespoke suit with his tie knotted to perfection, his expression relaxed and his smile carrying that effortless, distant charm he always had off the clock.
The woman next to him wore an off-the-shoulder emerald gown, her hair swept up into a loose bun and a pair of diamond studs catching the light at her ears.
She had slipped her arm through his with natural ease, leaning in close as she beamed at the camera with a bright, confident smile.
I recognized her. She was Sophie Lane, the new surgical assistant who had just been transferred to his operating room.
Charles had brought her up at home a few times.
"Sophie's really meticulous with her pre-op preparation. She works well alongside me."
"She made me pour-over coffee today. Less sweet than that place downstairs from your office. Turned out to be exactly what I wanted."
The girl's got drive and quick reflexes. When she follows me on rounds, I barely have to say a thing."
Beneath the photos, he had written: [Celebrating tonight at the Annual Case Review Gala with my most trusted assistant by my side.]
The comments and likes started flooding in almost instantly.
Someone asked: [Dr. Bennett, who's the gorgeous woman next to you? Is she your new partner?]
He responded with nothing but a winking emoji.
Another person teased: [You two look so good together. Are we about to hear some happy news?]
And right underneath that, Sophie added her own reply: [We just work well together. That's all. Don't read too much into it.]
The text was followed by a face-palm emoji.
I stared at that photo for a long time until the screen eventually went dark on its own.
I didn't like the post or write a response, and I couldn't even be bothered to open the comment box.
I simply pressed the lock button, dropped the phone face down, got up, walked into my study, and turned on my laptop.
The cold white light of the screen washed over my face as I started working my way through emails and spreadsheets, acting as though that post had never even appeared.
The next morning was Monday, and I got up at my usual hour.
When I walked into the closet, his side was still completely bare. He had been sleeping in the hospital's on-call room for several nights in a row.
I chose a gray-blue blouse and a pair of tailored trousers, put on some light makeup, and studied myself in the mirror. My expression was perfectly calm, giving nothing away.
Before I left the house, I made a phone call. "Hey, Rachel? It's me, Sarah."
Rachel Evans answered with a sleepy groan. "Oh my God, it's seven in the morning. What is wrong with you?"
I said directly, "You know that real estate agent for Briarhold you mentioned the other day? Send me their contact info."
"An agent? What are you trying to do? Move?"
"I'm going to rent this place out."
"Rent it out? The apartment you're living in now? Does Charles know about this?"
"I'm not asking him." And with that, I hung up before she could say another word.