Chapter 2
"You filled that out?"
"Yes."
"Where are you going?"
"My new apartment."
His face went blank.
"What new apartment?"
"The one I signed for six days ago."
Lauren's head lifted.
Adrian stared at me.
There are moments when a marriage ends long before either person says the words aloud.
Ours had been ending for months.
Possibly years.
But I think Adrian understood it for the first time beside that elevator.
Six years earlier, he and I had moved into Unit 2304 with one mattress, two folding chairs, and a collection of boxes we kept promising to unpack.
The building was newer then.
The lobby smelled faintly of fresh paint and polished stone, and the marina outside glittered with white sailboats that neither of us could afford.
We weren't poor.
But we weren't people who belonged in a glossy real estate brochure, either.
Adrian had just become a senior project manager at a commercial development firm. I worked in brand strategy for a regional food company. We had good salaries, student loans nearly paid off, and the kind of confidence that comes from believing the hardest part of adulthood is finally behind you.
The condo had been our celebration.
Unit 2304 was all windows and pale floors, with a narrow balcony facing the harbor.
On our first night, the movers were delayed.
We sat cross-legged on the living room floor eating Thai food from cardboard containers while city lights trembled across the water.
Adrian raised a plastic fork like a champagne glass.
"Promise me something."
"What?"
"If we ever become those people who live somewhere beautiful and have nothing to say to each other, we sell the place."
I laughed.
"That's dramatic."
"I'm serious."
"We could just talk to each other."
"Even better."
He leaned toward me.
"No silent-marriage nonsense. No sleeping in separate rooms for ten years while pretending everything's fine."
"Agreed."
"And no becoming unbearable rich people."
I looked at our plastic forks.
"I think we're safe for tonight."
He kissed me.
I remember that kiss because for a long time afterward, the condo felt like evidence that we had built something together.
By the Friday Adrian brought Lauren home, it felt like evidence that a life could look intact long after it had stopped being true.
Earlier that afternoon, I had been sitting at my desk when his text appeared.
Lauren is coming this weekend. Please don't create drama.