Page 3 of Broken Vows

Hey, how is everything?

I stare at the message, unsure how to respond.

Me

Jeremy’s tired. Watching TV in bed.

Lilly

Want to meet for coffee tomorrow? My treat.

It’s tempting, but I hesitate.

Me

Thanks, but I’ve got a lot to do around the house.

I reply, already regretting it.

Lilly

Okay, but don’t forget to take care of yourself too.

I should go to bed, curl up next to Jeremy, and pretend everything’s normal.

Instead, I find myself in my art room. My art supplies are in the closet, untouched for months. I pull out a sketchpad and pencils, their familiar weight both comforting and intimidating.

I settle at the desk and open to a blank page, taking a deep breath and begin to draw.

As I begin drawing, something inside me unwinds. The lines start shaky but grow more confident. I lose track of time, lost in creating. It’s past midnight when I look up. The sketch isn’t great - just the view from our kitchen window - but it’s something. A start.

I tiptoe to the bedroom, careful not to wake Jeremy. He’s sprawled across his side, one arm in the space where I should be. I slide under the covers, fitting against his warmth.

Chapter Two

The alarm blaresat 3:45 a.m jolting me awake. I fumble for my phone, silencing it before it can wake Jeremy. He stirs slightly but doesn’t wake, his breathing steady and deep.

I slip out of bed, the cool air sending goosebumps up my legs. The house is dark and quiet as I make my way to the kitchen, guided by muscle memory more than sight.

As I prepare his lunch, my mind wanders to last night’s sketch. It wasn’t much, but it felt good to create something again.

I place his neatly packed lunch box on the counter and start the coffeemaker. The rich aroma fills the kitchen, a small comfort in the early morning darkness.

His footsteps in the hallway signal his approach. He enters the kitchen, eyes still heavy with sleep, and reaches for the coffeepot.

“Morning,” he mumbles, pouring himself a cup.

“Good morning, sleep well?”

He shrugs, taking a long sip of coffee. “Alright, I guess. You came to bed late.”

“Yeah, I was…” I hesitate, unsure whether to mention the drawing. “Just lost track of time.”

“I’m going to shower.”

I hear the bathroom door close and the shower start and move to lay out his clothes. As I place them on the bed, my gaze falls on the framed photo on his nightstand. It’s us on our honeymoon. I pick it up, studying our younger faces. We looked so happy, so full of hope for the future. When did that change? I shake my head, grabbing the clothes and bringing them into the bathroom, placing them onto the toilet seat.

“Your lunch is on the counter. I packed extra granola bars.”

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