Emily believed love should be able to survive a small house, grocery coupons, unpaid bills, and ordinary shoes by the door. She wanted to be chosen before anyone knew what came with choosing her.
For a while, Michael made that belief feel reasonable. He carried boxes into the shop before work. He brought her takeout when inventory ran late. He cried during the first ultrasound, his hand trembling over hers.
Jessica, his mother, worked in Vega’s finance department and acted polite enough in public. In private, she studied Emily’s thrift-store coats and flower-stained fingers as if they proved something disappointing about her son’s taste.
Sarah arrived later, first as a colleague attached to Michael’s team, then as a name that appeared too often in meetings, messages, and after-hours project updates. She was polished, careful, and always close.
Emily said nothing at first. She was pregnant, tired, and still trying to believe that marriage could bend without breaking. She watched, listened, and gave Michael chances he never knew he was receiving.
