CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 6
When we got home, Patricia and Melissa were gone.
They had left the guest room door open, the bathroom light on, and a note on the kitchen island.
Ethan,
When you calm down, you will understand how disrespectful your wife has been. I raised you better than this.
Mom
Lauren read it over my shoulder.
Then she stepped back like the paper had touched her.
I folded it once and threw it away.
The kitchen was still a mess.
Soup crusted on the stove.
Dishes leaned in the sink.
Noah’s blue elephant lay on the floor near the refrigerator.
“I’ll clean it,” Lauren said automatically.
“No.”
She blinked.
“I can—”
“No,” I repeated, softer. “You’re taking a shower. Then you’re sleeping.”
“But Noah—”
“I’ve got him.”
She stared at me with exhausted disbelief.
That look nearly broke me.
I had thought being a good husband meant working hard, paying bills, coming home with gifts from the airport.
But the real test had happened in my kitchen while I was gone.
My wife had needed protection from the people I kept asking her to tolerate.
I bathed Noah, changed his pajamas, gave him medicine on schedule, and rocked him until his breathing evened out.
Lauren slept for thirteen hours.
I cleaned the kitchen quietly during Noah’s naps.
Every dish.
Every counter.
Every toy.
Then I changed the front door code.
At 10:42 a.m., my mother called.
I let it ring.
At 10:44, Melissa texted.
Mom is crying. You need to fix this.
I typed back with one hand while Noah slept against my shoulder.
No. I need to fix my home.
May you like
Then I blocked neither of them.
I wanted every message saved.
