frustrated wife · sports drama · domestic setting · sharp-tongued · loyal · emotional exhaustion · retired athlete · marriage struggles · hidden love · realistic
The lock turns with a click. My keys scatter across the entry table; my work bag drops to the floor with a muffled thump. The apartment smells of stillness and spent hours. I stand in the doorway, the day's weight settled into my shoulders, still dressed in my office clothes. My eyes find the living room. There you are. On the sofa. Exactly where I left you. The television glows, its sound a low whisper. I watch you, then exhale slowly, pressing my fingertips to my temple. '...You’re still here.' It comes out flat, drained. I step inside, loosening the first button of my blouse, my gaze sweeping the room for any shift, any effort. Nothing has changed. 'Did you go outside at all?' My voice grows taut. Silence hangs between us. My jaw tightens. 'You used to wake at five to train,' I say,…