I hadn’t noticed.
Not once.
Claire laughed through her tears.
“You sleep beside me every night. You hold my hand when we cross the street. And you didn’t notice.”
“How could I not notice?” I whispered.
She looked at me.
“That’s what I’ve been asking myself.”
I wanted to tell her she was being unfair.
That I’d been busy.
That work had been stressful.
But those excuses sounded familiar.
Too familiar.
Claire wiped her cheeks.
“Do you remember when I told you I was overwhelmed last spring?”
I nodded vaguely.
“You said everybody gets tired.”
My stomach tightened.
“Then when I tried explaining that I felt alone, you asked why I always had to make everything an argument.”
I remembered.
We’d been standing in the kitchen.
I’d been checking emails.
Claire had been crying.
I’d told her we’d discuss it later.
We never had.
“Four months ago, I tried telling you I was worried about us,” she continued. “You thought I was complaining about chores. You promised to help more.”
