Small Mercies

The spinach kept catching between her teeth, a tiny green humiliation every time she glanced at Marcus across the table. Seven years of marriage, and she was still calculating the angle of her smile in reflections—glassware, the stainless steel espresso machine, the darkened window of their fifteenth-floor apartment.

Marcus's iPhone lay face-up on the table between them, screen illuminating every thirty seconds with new notifications. Work emails, probably. Or maybe her. He'd been distant lately, coming home later, his collars unbuttoned just one notch too far. She pressed her palm against the cold surface of the table, grounding herself.

"You're not eating," Marcus said, pushing his plate away. The spinach had gone cold and slimy, a terrible metaphor for everything between them now.

"Not hungry." She stood up, needing movement, space, anything but this suffocating tableau. "I'm going for a walk."

"Now? It's midnight."

"Yes, now."

She grabbed her coat from the rack. Her black vintage hat with the veil—a ridiculous affectation she'd started wearing after her mother died, when she'd needed armor—caught on a hook. She wrestled it free anyway.

"Elena, wait." Marcus's phone lit up again. This time he didn't turn it over.

She paused at the door, hand on the knob. "What?"

"I got the offer. Singapore."

The city where they'd met, where everything had been possible once. Singapore. Two years, maybe more. A fresh start or a final

She thought of the spinach stuck in her teeth, of the last seven years spent swallowing things she should have said. Of Marcus's phone, always between them.

"When do we leave?" she asked.

His expression flickered—relief, then something else. "We? I thought—I mean, I didn't assume—"

"Seven years, Marcus." She adjusted her hat, tilting the veil down over her eyes. "You don't get to decide for both of us anymore."

The elevator ride down took forever. When she stepped onto the street, the city lights blurred through her veil. Her phone buzzed in her pocket—Marcus, probably. Or maybe it was time she finally ordered that spinach to clean her teeth properly, finally looked herself in the eye.

She hailed a taxi and didn't look up at their window as she drove away.