Chapter 8: The Choice
"Where are you going today?" he asked the next morning.
"To the cliffs," she said. "To paint. Alone."
"Go," he whispered. "Stay as long as you need."
He watched her car disappear.
For six hours, he paced the floor without a screen to tell him she was safe.
When she finally returned, windblown and smelling of salt air, she pressed a sketchbook into his hands.
"I came back because I wanted to," she whispered. "Not because you were watching."