A bitter lump formed in her throat. “Or do you think my colleague should have just given up her seat for Sandra? That we should both bow down to her every whim?”
A bright red handprint bloomed on Lionel’s handsome face. He narrowed his eyes, staring at her.
She had grown claws.
“Lionel, I’ve already given up the title of Mrs. Rosenberg Jr. What more do you want from me? Do I have to leave Sova? Leave the country? Do I have to leave this world before you’ll be satisfied?”
Her voice rose with emotion, tears streaming down her face. How much more did he expect her to give up before he would finally leave her alone?
Sandra tried to intervene, but before she could speak, Hannah pushed past them, got into her car, and sped away.
She sat in the garage for a long time after getting home, waiting for her emotions to settle before she went inside, plastering on a calm expression to have dinner with Mrs. Rosenberg.
Later that night, Hannah took another batch of jewelry from her closet to the consignment manager.
When she returned, Lionel still wasn’t home. She didn't care where he was or when he would be back. This was his normal.
A short while later, however, the bedroom door creaked open.
Hannah realized with a jolt that she’d forgotten to lock it before going to sleep. She’d never been in the habit of locking the door, always holding onto a sliver of hope that he might come back to her. If the door was locked, he wouldn’t be able to get in.
But she had left the door open for years, and he had never once set foot inside.
Hannah kept her eyes closed, feigning sleep. She didn’t want to talk to him, didn’t want to fight anymore. She was just so tired.
He turned on his side, gazing at her silhouette. That hollow feeling in his chest returned, the sense that something precious was slipping away.
Hannah kept her eyes shut tight, trying to empty her mind. It wasn't until she heard the steady rhythm of his breathing that she finally allowed herself to relax. She decided to stay put; getting up might wake him, and that would only lead to another pointless argument.
Dawn broke, and the morning light streamed through the window, waking Hannah. She sat up and saw that the space beside her was empty. The pillow was so smooth it looked untouched. If not for the faint warmth still lingering on the sheets, she might have thought last night was just a dream.
After getting ready, she went downstairs and was surprised to see Lionel still there.
Mrs. Rosenberg Sr. beamed at her. “Hannah, you must be tired after last night. Come, have some breakfast. I’ll have this good-for-nothing boy drive you to work.”
Hearing this, Hannah glanced at Lionel, who was taking off an apron. He must have fed his grandmother some lies again.

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