The week slipped past in a rhythm that felt dangerously close to married life. Work during the day, spreadsheets and numbers blurring until they finally began to make sense.
Evenings at home, where Val's smile and Duchess's lazy stretches welcomed me like I'd earned some hidden treasure. Dinner together, sometimes her cooking, sometimes mine, sometimes take-out when she insisted neither of us should lift a finger. Then the quiet after—her laughter at some video, the warmth of her legs tucked beneath her, my head resting against the pillow beside her.
It was simple. Too simple. And yet, it was everything.
If not for the glances—the barely-there flickers from Tasha at the office, eyes catching on me longer than they should have—I might have believed life could stay like this forever. But I ignored them. No room in my chest for anyone else when Val was still here, when every hour counted.
