Part 2He Tiptoes In An Empty House

I checked into a boutique hotel near my office. I had just stepped out of the shower, my hair still dripping wet, when my phone rang. It was Gary's mother, Donna.

"Faith, what on earth is wrong with you?" Her voice was sharp, cutting through the speaker. "Gary tells me you’re playing your moving-out games again. He’s under so much pressure at work, and he has to come home to this? Can't you be a little more mature?"

The towel froze in my hands.

"So what if he’s helping out his college junior? Men work hard to build a career, and they deserve a peaceful home. Stop being so petty about every little thing." Before I could answer, Donna shifted to her social voice. "Be early for the dinner tonight. Don't make us wait. I had my personal shopper pick out a dress for you; come try it on."

After the line went dead, I sat on the edge of the bed for a long time, staring at the floor.

On our wedding day three years ago, Donna had taken my hands and told me that Gary was emotionally distant, and that he needed someone gentle like me to warm him up. She said she would treat me like her own daughter. I guess this was what daughters were for.

I still went to the birthday dinner. Not for Gary, but for his father, Charles. When my mother was in the oncology ward, Charles had pulled strings to get her into a specialized clinical trial. I owed him that debt of gratitude.

When I walked into the private dining room at the restaurant, I saw Lindsay already seated beside Gary. She was adjusting his tie, her fingers hovering near his collar, laughing at something he said.

The extended family watched them, exchanging knowing glances. I caught the low murmur of an aunt nearby: "Honestly, Lindsay looks like a much better fit for Gary. Faith has always been so cold, hasn't she?"

The glass of water in my hand trembled slightly.

Donna spoke up, her voice smooth but carrying the weight of a command. "Faith, Lindsay is struggling to find her footing since returning from her study abroad. Your firm has an opening in marketing, right? Put her there. You're family now; you should look out for her."

"Our hiring process is strict," I replied. "I can't just bypass HR."

Lindsay’s eyes immediately downcast, her voice dropping to a soft whisper. "Are you still angry with me, Faith? I don't mind starting from the bottom. I'm not afraid of hard work."

Gary placed his fork down, the silver clinking sharply against the porcelain plate. "Faith, don't bring your domestic grievances to a family dinner."

"Everyone is watching," Donna added, offering a polished smile to the table. "Just give her a chance."

I was pinned under their collective gaze, cast once again as the petty, jealous wife.

Suddenly, Charles set his glass down. He looked at Lindsay, his tone casual but discerning. "Lindsay, didn't you mention last week that you had a recommendation from Oxford's prestigious research group? If you're that qualified, why are you looking to start at the bottom at Faith’s firm?"

Lindsay's smile faltered for a fraction of a second. She quickly recovered, though, offering a sweet, deferential nod. "Mr. Caldwell, I just want to learn the practical side of things. Working under Faith would teach me so much more than any academic program."

Gary jumped in to smooth things over. "She's young. She's still finding her footing."

Watching Gary defend her so smoothly, so instinctively, felt like a slow, dull blade carving into my chest.

Before the dinner ended, Donna pulled me into the ladies' lounge. She reached into her Chanel bag and slid a folded document across the vanity toward me.

"This is your health assessment from the family clinic," she said, her voice dry and matter-of-fact. "You and Gary have been married for three years. It’s time for a child. You can't keep using your insomnia as an excuse to avoid it."

I stared at the medical report. My doctor had explicitly warned me that with my level of nervous exhaustion and the heavy dosage of sleep aids I was taking, my body was in no condition to carry a pregnancy. But Gary had never accompanied me to a single follow-up. He didn't even know what prescriptions sat in our medicine cabinet.

I crumpled the paper in my fist and remained silent.

Donna let out a long, disappointed sigh. "Stop acting out, Faith. Go home and set up that position for Lindsay. A woman’s most important asset is her dignity. You surely don't think you can survive without the Caldwell name, do you?"

When I walked out of the lounge, I saw Lindsay trip near the end of the corridor, collapsing onto the carpet. She clutched her ankle, tears already pooling in her eyes.

Gary bypassed me entirely to get to her. His elbow slammed hard into my lower back as he rushed past, throwing me against the sharp edge of a console table. Pain flared up my spine, blacking out my vision for a second, leaving me breathless.

He scooped Lindsay up into his arms, heading straight for the exit without a single backward glance. I leaned against the wall, trying to steady myself through the blinding ache in my back.

From down the hall, Lindsay's muffled sob echoed: "Gary, does Faith hate me? I only wanted to apologize to her..."