I always thought I knew my husband.
After twenty-one years, you\u2019d think there wouldn\u2019t be any surprises left. We\u2019d weathered the storms \u2014 money struggles, parenting disagreements, the loss of my mother, his long hours at work. We\u2019d built something steady. Safe.<\/p>\n
At least, that\u2019s what I believed\u2026 until last Saturday.<\/p>\n
The day started the same as most Saturdays. I was making coffee when Jordan came into the kitchen, looking tired, almost haunted. He leaned against the counter and rubbed the back of his neck.<\/p>\n
\u201cI need to drive upstate this weekend,\u201d he said, his voice low, careful.<\/p>\n
I set my mug down. \u201cWhat for?\u201d<\/p>\n
He hesitated. \u201cEddie\u2019s funeral. You remember me mentioning him from high school?\u201d<\/p>\n
I frowned. \u201cI don\u2019t think you ever talked about an Eddie.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWe only stayed in touch online,\u201d he explained quickly. \u201cChildhood friend. Cancer.\u201d<\/p>\n
Something about the way his eyes shifted made my stomach tighten. Still, grief does strange things to people, so I didn\u2019t press him.<\/p>\n
\u201cShould I come with you? For support?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo,\u201d he answered too fast. \u201cIt\u2019d be awkward. You didn\u2019t know him. I\u2019d rather\u2026 process it alone.\u201d<\/p>\n
I swallowed the doubt rising in my throat and nodded. \u201cWhen will you be back?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSunday evening,\u201d he said, already turning away.<\/p>\n
Saturday morning came with gray skies and a light drizzle. Jordan kissed my cheek before leaving. His suitcase looked barely packed.<\/p>\n