I settled into my seat, buckled in, and prepared for a few peaceful hours. I had downloaded a book solely for this trip and was already picturing myself sipping a gin and tonic while reading. That little fantasy shattered almost immediately.
A woman slipped into the seat beside me. She gave me a polite smile—the kind strangers exchange when circumstances force them into temporary proximity. Nothing unusual… until I caught sight of the name on her boarding pass as she slid it into the seat pocket.
A name I had heard far too many times whenever Oscar spoke about his past. My husband’s ex-wife, Clara. I recognized her instantly.
I had seen their wedding photos three years ago, right after I moved into Oscar’s house. “You can look through them before I pack everything away into the basement,” Oscar had told me. “I’ve gotten a bunch of boxes.
I’m just waiting for Clara to let me know if she wants them before I destroy them, you know?”
“I get it,” I had replied. “Despite your marriage ending, this is a core memory in your lives.”
He’d looked at me strangely then, as if he wanted to say something more but chose not to. Instead, he smiled and walked away into the kitchen.
Now, here she was—sitting inches away from me. I tried to compose myself, pretending not to notice who she was. But then she turned toward me and spoke my name, slowly, almost as if testing how it felt on her tongue.
My dream house, actually.”
“Excuse me?” I blinked, blindsided. “Oh, Oscar didn’t tell you? Yeah, we designed it while we were living in the apartment.
I think Oscar moved into the house just before you did. But every detail in that house? Yeah, I had a say in it all.
Oscar must have liked it so much that he didn’t want to change anything at all.”
