The screen flickered, and the words “Office Closing Effective Immediately” stared back at me
My desk felt suddenly larger, the empty chairs around me echoing the hollow in my chest.
Jenna slid a coffee cup onto my keyboard, her thumb brushing the rim as she said, “I’m sorry, Mike.”
She didn’t ask what happened; she just let the silence sit, the hum of the fluorescent lights filling the void.
I stared at the spreadsheet that used to be my life’s ledger, now just a list of names with a red line through them.
“Eighty people,” I whispered, the number tasting like ash.
She gave a small, understanding nod, eyes flicking to the screen then back to me, as if offering a lifeline without words.
“You’ve got savings, you’ve got experience,” she murmured, the optimism brittle.
The office door clicked shut behind her, and the cubicle walls seemed to close in, a cage of fluorescent glare and stale coffee.
My hand trembled as I closed the laptop, the screen’s blue glow fading to black, leaving only the empty hum of the HVAC.
I imagined Delphine’s voice at home, the calm tone that usually wrapped our evenings, now a distant echo.
“We’ll figure it out together,” I told myself, the words feeling like a promise I couldn’t keep.
Delphine’s suitcase lay open on the floor, half‑filled with folded shirts and a single pair of shoes
I stepped through the front door, the familiar scent of fresh laundry and cinnamon candles hitting me like a wave.
“Mike?” she called from the bedroom, her voice flat, the edge of something I hadn’t heard before.
She turned, eyes cold, hands moving with a mechanical efficiency as she placed another shirt into the suitcase.
“I’m leaving,” she said, the words hanging in the hallway, sharp as broken glass.
My throat tightened, words catching like rusted hinges. “Delphine, what—”
She snapped the suitcase shut with a thud that reverberated through the walls.
“I married a provider, not a problem,” she repeated, each syllable deliberate, each glance a silent accusation.
She grabbed her keys, the metallic jingle echoing the finality of her departure.
“I’m going to my parents’ house,” she added, voice steadier than she felt.
I stared at the doorway as she walked, her heels clicking a staccato rhythm that grew fainter with each step.
When she reached the front door, she turned back, her hand gripping the handle, and with a swift motion flung the door shut, the impact reverberating through my chest.
On the floor, where the door had slammed, lay a sealed envelope—no address, no name, just my initials inked in a hurried script.
I bent, fingers trembling, and picked it up, the paper warm against my palm, a silent promise of the secret she’d been keeping.
Section 3 – The Call
The phone rang at three in the afternoon, startling me out of a half‑finished sandwich.
“Michael?” a trembling voice asked. “It’s Marianne—Delphine’s mother.”
I could hear the kitchen timer ticking behind her, the clatter of dishes.
“Mom… what’s wrong?”
She swallowed hard. “She’s… she’s not herself. She left the house early this morning, said she needed air.”
My throat tightened. “Did she say where she was going?”
“She mentioned a hotel downtown. And… a man. He introduced himself as Victor.”
I felt the floor tilt. “Victor? Who’s that?”
Marianne’s voice cracked. “I don’t know. She’s never spoken of him. She left a note on the kitchen counter—‘I need to talk.’ I tried to call, but she hung up.”
“Did she leave anything else?” I asked, heart thudding.
She sighed, the sound of a sigh that carried grief and fear. “She left a bag on the hallway table. I think she’s staying at my place for now. Please—come now.”
I slammed the sandwich down, grabbed my coat, and headed to the parents’ house, the image of a stranger’s name echoing in my head.
Section 4 – The Confrontation
The driveway was slick with recent rain; the house loomed like a mute witness.
Marianne opened the door, eyes red. “He’s inside. He’s waiting.”
I pushed past her, the hallway smelling of old pine and fresh laundry.
Delphine stood in the living room, a sealed envelope clenched in her hand, her jaw set like a drawn bow.
“How long have you been hiding this?” she demanded, voice trembling with fury.
