Electric in the Kitchen

The lightning struck just as Elena reached for the papaya, illuminating the kitchen in a violent flash that made her hand tremble. Outside, thunder shook the windows, but inside, the silence between her and Marcus was louder than any storm.

"You're making the fertility salad again," Marcus said, not looking up from his phone. His hair—once the color of midnight, now streaked with premature silver—fell over his eyes as he typed. Elena remembered running her fingers through those dark curls five years ago, when they still believed in second chances.

"It's just dinner, Marcus. Not everything has meaning." She sliced through the papaya's orange flesh, the juice staining her fingers like sunset. "And the spinach is for iron. I'm tired all the time."

"We've been trying for three years, El." He finally looked up, his eyes the same warm brown that had made her cancel her flight back to Chicago that first weekend. "Maybe we could—"

"Don't. Not tonight." She dumped the spinach into the wooden bowl, her movements sharp. They'd had this conversation a hundred times. Adoption, donor eggs, accepting childlessness as their new normal. Each option felt like surrender.

Another flash of lightning, closer this time. The refrigerator hummed nervously.

"I saw her today," Marcus said softly. "Your sister. At the grocery store. She was buying—"

"Papayas. Yes, I know." Elena's knife paused. "She's due in August."

"She asked about us."

"What did you say?" The spinach leaves tore easily between her fingers, too easily.

"That we're happy. That we have each other." Marcus stood, crossing the kitchen in three long strides. When he reached for her, Elena didn't pull away. His fingers tangled in her hair, the same gesture from their wedding night, from the morning after her father's funeral, from a thousand moments between.

"Are we?" she whispered against his chest. "Happy?"

"We're still standing." He pressed his lips to her forehead. "The power's out, El. Let's just eat our dinner in the dark and wait for the storm to pass."

Outside, the rain began to fall, washing over the garden where they'd once dreamed of a swing set. Elena leaned into him, tasting papaya on her fingers, feeling the weight of everything unsaid between them, and for the first time in months, she didn't pull away.