Morning arrived gently, like it wasn't sure it was welcome.
Adeline woke before the alarm, the gray light filtering through the curtains unfamiliar and soft. For a few seconds, she stayed still, listening to the quiet hum of the house and the faint sound of traffic somewhere beyond the walls. Her body felt calm, rested—but her mind wasn't.
It never was anymore.
She rolled onto her side and stared at the blank space beside her on the bed. Christopher had left early for work the night before, kissing her forehead, murmuring something about a long day ahead. She remembered nodding, smiling, pretending not to notice the relief she felt when the door clicked shut behind him.
That part scared her the most.
Adeline sat up, pressing her feet to the cool floor, grounding herself. She took a breath. Then another. Some thoughts didn't mean anything unless you let them. She reminded herself of that again, like a mantra.
Downstairs, the kitchen smelled faintly of coffee.
She paused halfway down the stairs.
That was strange.
Christopher never made coffee before work.
The thought barely finished forming before she heard his father's voice—low, calm, unmistakable.
"Morning."
Her breath caught. Just slightly. Enough that she noticed.
Marshall stood by the counter, sleeves rolled up, one hand around a mug. He looked up as she reached the last step, his expression easy, unreadable in that way of his.
"I didn't mean to wake you," he added. "Hope that's okay."
"It's fine," she said quickly. Too quickly. She smoothed her robe, suddenly aware of how thin the fabric felt against her skin. "I didn't know you were coming by."
He shrugged, a small smile pulling at his mouth. "Christopher asked me to drop off some documents. I figured I'd make myself useful."
Adeline nodded, crossing the room to grab a mug from the cabinet. Their movements felt careful, like two people unconsciously adjusting to each other's gravity.
She poured herself coffee, aware of him watching—not in a way that felt intrusive, but attentive. As if she mattered in the space simply by being there.
That thought unsettled her more than it should have.
"How are you?" he asked.
"Good," she said. Then, because honesty had always come easily between them, she added, "Tired."
He hummed softly in understanding. "You've been working too much."
She glanced at him. "Christopher tell you that?"
"No," he replied. "I have eyes."
That earned a small smile from her before she could stop it.
They fell into a comfortable silence, the kind that didn't demand to be filled. Adeline leaned against the counter, sipping her coffee, letting the warmth steady her. Marshall stood across from her, relaxed, but there was something in the way he held himself—contained, deliberate.
Always aware.
"You don't have to rush," he said after a moment. "I'll be out of your way soon."
"You're not in my way," she replied, then hesitated. "You never are."
The words landed between them, heavier than she'd intended.
Marshall met her gaze fully now. Something shifted in his expression—not surprise, exactly. More like recognition. A quiet acknowledgment of something unspoken.
He didn't comment on it.
Instead, he nodded once. "I should go, then."
Disappointment flared in her chest before she could reason it away.
"Okay," she said.
He gathered his things, moving toward the door. At the threshold, he paused, turning back to her.
"Adeline," he said softly.
"Yes?"
"Take care of yourself."
The simplicity of it almost undid her.
"I will," she replied.
The door closed behind him, and the house felt emptier for it.
The rest of the day passed in fragments.
Work emails. A missed call from Christopher. The low hum of her thoughts drifting where they shouldn't. Adeline tried to stay present, tried to anchor herself in routine, but her mind kept circling back—to the way Marshall's voice sounded in the quiet kitchen, to the ease of being seen without explanation.
It didn't mean anything, she told herself.
It couldn't.
That evening, Christopher came home late, tired and distracted. They ate dinner side by side, conversation light and familiar. He kissed her cheek absentmindedly, talked about his day, about plans and timelines.
Adeline listened. Smiled. Responded when expected.
She wondered when it had become possible to feel lonely in the same room as the man she loved.
Later, alone in the bedroom, she lay staring at the ceiling again. The same position. The same thoughts.
Her phone buzzed on the nightstand.
A message from Marshall.
"Hope I didn't disrupt your morning?".
Her fingers hovered over the screen.
"You didn't", she typed back. "It was nice seeing you".
Three dots appeared almost immediately.
"I'm glad".
That was all.
Adeline set the phone down, heart beating a little too fast for such harmless words.
She closed her eyes.
Some thoughts didn't mean anything unless you named them.
And she still wasn't ready to do that.