Chapter 7: The Ordinary Morning
Richard left for work at the usual time, carrying the same briefcase and the same assumption that the house remained exactly as he had ordered it a year earlier. I stood at the front window and watched the car disappear down the street before I unlocked the guest-room door. Ethan had slept in short intervals, waking whenever the baby stirred. The infant was fed with formula I had bought the previous evening under the pretext of a neighbor’s request. No record of the purchase existed on any card Richard could see. The suitcase remained under the bed. The digital copies of every document stayed in the account he had never been given permission to open.
We moved through the day in careful silence. Ethan ate little. He answered my practical questions about the baby’s schedule and about the other woman’s name—Laura—and the apartment across town where the birth certificate had been filed. He had never spoken to her directly. He had only watched the pattern of Richard’s absences and matched them to the medical appointments and the bank transfers. The last transfer had cleared three days before the child was born. Richard had attended the birth. The knowledge sat between us on the kitchen table like a third presence that required no additional commentary.
