Bianca gave a small, helpless shrug.
“He said you lived separate lives. He said you stayed married for appearances and for your daughter.”
I almost corrected her. Almost said we ate breakfast together every morning, that he kissed Mila before leaving for work, that only three nights earlier he had fallen asleep beside me with one hand resting over mine.
Then I remembered the locked bathroom calls.
The unexplained weekend trips.
The way he had recently begun carrying his phone even when he took out the trash.
Perhaps we had not been living the same marriage.
Mila looked up at me.
“What does separated mean?”
“It means we need to talk to Daddy,” I said.
She accepted that for now.
Priya called her assistant, who arrived within minutes. Her name was Jenna, and her seven-year-old daughter had brought a deck of animal cards. Mila brightened when she saw them.
Before leaving, she picked up the necklace.
