Where we had celebrated birthdays.
Argued over grocery lists.
Talked about vacations.
And once danced together while dinner burned on the stove.
I remembered loving him.
That was the hardest part.
I had loved him.
Not the man who changed my locks.
But the man I believed he was before resentment became the center of our marriage.
Monica stayed near the doorway.
“Take your time.”
I nodded.
Then I noticed something on the counter.
A small envelope.
My name was written across it.
Natalie.
I opened it.
Inside was a letter from Adrian.
He wrote that he hadn’t intended for the situation to become a police matter.
That Marjorie had pushed him to act quickly.
That he’d been under enormous financial pressure.
And that he’d believed the investment would eventually make us both wealthy.
He said he knew changing the locks was wrong.
He apologized for humiliating me.
Then he asked whether we could begin again.
