The next morning, Claudia's alarm went off right on time.
She stretched, sat up, and turned to see York sitting bolt upright beside her, staring blankly like a zombie.
Claudia leaned in for a closer look and noticed the dark circles under his eyes.
"Did your grandfather put too much pressure on you again? Are you having trouble sleeping?" she asked, concerned.
York's gaze was murderous.
Ignoring him, Claudia threw back the covers, got out of bed, and went to the bathroom to get ready.
York followed her in, his expression grim.
He'd been up all night, and she hadn't even bothered to ask if he was okay.
At 7:50, Claudia was rushing around, gathering her things to leave for work.
York blocked her way, his face dark. "It's still early. Let's have breakfast, and I'll drive you."
Claudia was busy packing her phone charger and didn't even look up. "You go ahead. Mira said she's bringing in some amazing breakfast tacos for us to share. I'll eat with my colleagues later."
Seeing this, York grabbed his jacket. "I'll drive you."
Claudia dangled her car keys. "I'll be driving myself to work from now on. It'll save you the trip."
She opened the front door but then paused.
She turned back, walked up to York, stood on her tiptoes, and gave him a quick kiss.
York instinctively wrapped his arms around her waist.
Feeling his response, Claudia subtly pushed him away, opened the door, and left.
York stood in the entryway, a heavy feeling settling in his chest.
He thought about what his mother, Wendy, had said to him.
He and Claudia were acting less and less like a married couple, and their house was feeling less and less like a home.
Wilma heard the door close and came over. "Sir, breakfast is ready."

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