PART 2:
One from my younger sister, Ava, asking if I was still coming to dinner Friday.
And a calendar reminder I had forgotten about completely.
9:30 a.m. — Regional Leadership Transition Call.
The promotion.
For a few seconds, grief hit me in a way I hadn’t expected.
Not because I was leaving the job.
I wasn’t.
But because the happiest professional moment of my life had somehow become attached to the worst night of my marriage.
I had spent fourteen years building that career.
Daniel had managed to make one night feel like it belonged to him.
I wrapped both hands around my coffee mug.
“No,” I whispered.
He didn’t get to own that memory.
Upstairs, floorboards creaked.
A moment later Daniel came into the kitchen wearing sweatpants, his hair flattened on one side. He looked at me without speaking.
His eyes moved immediately to my scalp.
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