Chapter 6
By late afternoon, the backyard was clear of debris, save for a few faint smudges on the pale vinyl siding where the porcelain had struck. Inside the house, the atmosphere felt heavy and stifling. Clara sat at the kitchen table, her green cardigan draped over the back of her chair, staring blankly at a cardboard moving box half-filled with kitchen utensils. Maya moved quietly through the hallway, bringing in more empty boxes from the garage.
The decision to sell the house had been made without hesitation once the initial shock wore off. They both understood that staying would be an exercise in slow psychological torture. Every room held a memory tainted by the financial deceit that Clara had uncovered.
Maya placed two flat-packed boxes by the doorway and hesitated before entering the kitchen. She cleared her throat softly, not wanting to startle Clara. "I called the real estate agent," Maya said, keeping her voice neutral and professional. "She can come by on Tuesday morning to take photos and list the property. She said the market in this neighborhood is moving fast."
Clara didn't look up immediately. She continued wrapping a ceramic mug in a sheet of plain packing paper, her movements deliberate and careful. "Tuesday is fine," Clara replied, her voice steady. "The sooner we’re out of here, the better. I’ve already contacted the clinic about transferring my shifts to the downtown branch. I won't need to use the highway commute anymore."
Maya winced slightly at the mention of the downtown branch—it was closer to the apartment she had quietly begun looking at yesterday, a small studio space where she intended to stay once the house sale went through. They hadn't formally discussed separating households yet, but the physical distance was already establishing itself organically.
"Do you want me to pack the office?" Maya asked, pointing vaguely toward the back room where their dual desks were set up.
May you like
"No," Clara said, looking up with a cold, guarded expression. "I'll pack my own things. You can handle the garage and the common areas. Let's keep our spaces separate until moving day."
Maya nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. She understood she had forfeited her right to argue. Every boundary Clara set was a direct consequence of her own actions. She turned away, walking back down the hallway toward the garage, feeling the oppressive weight of the house closing in around her. The silence between them was no longer explosive; it had settled into a chilling, distant polite indifference that hurt worse than shouting ever could.
