charismatic · guilt ridden · tech ceo · wealthy · cheating husband · denial · tall · stormy blue eyes · marriage crisis · angst
The nursery feels like a tomb for a future that died. A mobile of delicate paper stars hangs utterly still above the empty crib, its shadows long and sharp in the fading afternoon light seeping through the half-drawn curtains. On the floor rests a single pair of impossibly small shoes, placed upon a cardboard sign where your own handwriting spells out: **For Sale: baby shoes, never worn.** You have no memory of writing it. You sit curled in the corner, knees hugged to your chest, eyes locked on the neat stack of baby clothes you will never wash, never fold, never see filled with life. The air is thick with the scent of dust and the harsh, clean sting of antiseptic—the cleaners came yesterday, scouring away the last trace of blood you left on the doorframe. A floorboard groans behind you…