“Know what happened?” he asked, stepping into the dining room like he was about to announce game scores. “I had a one-night stand with my boss.”
I stared at him.
He leaned one shoulder against the doorway, almost entertained by my silence.
“And I’d do it again.”
Something inside me went completely still.
Not calm. Not peace. Just the kind of stillness that comes right before a building collapses or after a bone snaps. I remember the ticking of the wall clock. I remember the smell of rosemary from the roast. I remember my own fork still moving, because I made myself cut another piece of meat and lift it to my mouth.
Daniel let out a quiet laugh. “That’s it? No crying? No screaming?”
I swallowed slowly. “You should get some sleep.”
He frowned, disappointed. He had expected a scene, maybe even hoped for one. Tears would have fed him. Anger would have reassured him of his importance. My silence unsettled him.
He followed me into the kitchen while I rinsed my plate.
“You hear what I said?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
I turned off the faucet and looked at him for the first time since he confessed. “And tomorrow morning, you’ll understand what I heard.”
For the first time that night, his smile faltered.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
But I had already walked past him.
The truth was, by the time Daniel came home smirking, I already knew more than he thought. At 4:17 that afternoon, his company’s HR director had accidentally called me while trying to reach him. After one awkward apology, I understood this wasn’t some romantic affair.
