That night, Everett Harrison and I slept in separate rooms for the first time.

I sat on the edge of the sprawling, empty bed, the silence pressing down on me. I suddenly remembered what he had told me on our wedding day. He had been so firm about it: even if we fought, we would never sleep in separate rooms. To him, if a disagreement survived the night, it meant the relationship had developed a crack that could never be repaired. He wouldn't allow it.

I quietly turned off the light.

Deep into the night, I felt a hand reach out toward me. Warm breath brushed against my neck, carrying a desperate, wheedling undertone.

"Honey, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. Can you forgive me?"

I lay still, letting him hold me while my eyes remained fixed on the window.

"Why did you come in?"

Everett scooted closer, his voice thick with sleep and apology. "We don't go to bed angry. I didn't forget that."

A single tear hit the pillowcase. I had made up my mind, hadn't I? So why did the sound of his voice, that single reminder of his rules, make me hesitate?

Behind me, Everett continued to whisper his excuses.

"Evelyn, I was just so wound up by that little brat Hailey today. That’s why I was in such a bad mood, and why I completely forgot to get you a gift."

My heart gave a sharp, familiar throb. I asked, keeping my voice as casual as I could manage.

"What happened with Hailey?"

It wasn't my imagination—his voice suddenly sparked with life.

"She messed up a critical set of contracts. I gave her a piece of my mind, and instead of taking it, she caught an attitude. She was sobbing and throwing a tantrum, and in the end, I was the one who had to go and soothe her. It’s exhausting, honestly."

Mid-sentence, Everett seemed to realize he might be crossing a line. He scrambled to backtrack, his tone turning brittle and hollow.

"Honey, you know there’s nothing going on between me and Hailey."

I rolled over, staring up at the ceiling.

"Right. I know. Otherwise, you never would have married me, would you?"

The hand he had resting on my waist pulled back, retreating inch by slow inch. He let out a low murmur, a sound thick with a strange, lingering regret.

"Yeah. In the end, I married you."