65

65
The moment Savannah stepped into the house, she felt it that quiet, suffocating stillness that came not from silence, but from the contrast of chaos inside her. Her world had ruptured in the last twelve hours, but here, everything was still in place. The faint smell of vanilla candles. The soft hum of jazz music from the kitchen speakers. The sound of Marcus’s voice singing along under his breath.

Home.

She didn’t deserve it anymore.

Her fingers trembled as she closed the door behind her and locked it, leaning her back against the wood. Her heels clicked once on the floor as she stepped forward, then stopped. She stood there, frozen. Every inch of her body felt foreign. Clean on the outside. Soiled within.

“Sav?” Marcus’s voice floated from the kitchen.

She cleared her throat quickly. “Yeah. I’m back.”

He popped his head around the corner, a dish towel flung over his shoulder. “Hey, birthday girl.” His eyes lit up. “You’re just in time.”

Just in time.

Just in time to pretend she hadn’t let another man touch her like no one else ever had.

Savannah forced a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “It smells amazing.”

Marcus walked toward her, wiping his hands on the towel. His face was bright, warm. Loving. He was still the same man. And she she wasn’t the same woman. Not anymore.

“I made chicken piccata,” he said, wrapping her in a hug. “Your favorite.”

His arms were a cocoon around her, soft and familiar. She let herself be held. Her chin pressed against his shoulder, eyes closing for one long second.

Don’t cry. Don’t break. Not now.

“You didn’t have to go through all that trouble,” she murmured.

“Of course I did. It’s your birthday, babe. You only turn thirty-two once.” He pulled back and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Besides, I kinda like spoiling you.”

She swallowed hard.

He kissed her, his lips warm and gentle against hers. Familiar. Kind.

But her body didn’t move. It didn’t lean in. Didn’t rise to meet his.

And it wasn’t because she didn’t love him.

It was because she couldn’t feel him.

And worse, part of her wished he’d kiss her the way Damien had.

The guilt punched her so hard she nearly staggered. She pulled back quickly and said, “I’m gonna change. Long day.”

“Of course. Wine’s breathing. Dinner’s in five.”

She nodded and made her way upstairs, her heartbeat ringing in her ears. Each step away from Marcus felt like a betrayal. And maybe it was.

Upstairs – The Bathroom

Savannah closed the door behind her and turned the lock. Her purse dropped to the floor with a thud. She stared at her reflection in the mirror. Hair tousled. Mascara smudged at the corners. Lips bitten.

She looked wrecked.

She looked beautiful.

She looked like a stranger.

Her hand dipped into her purse, and there it was her wedding ring. She didn’t even remember taking it off at Damien’s place, but it had ended up there. She stared at it for a long time before sliding it back onto her finger.

It felt heavier than usual.

Downstairs Dinner

By the time she returned, her makeup was fixed, and she had on her softest sweater. She smiled like nothing was wrong, and Marcus smiled back like everything was right.

He served her plate before his own. “I even made the mashed sweet potatoes the way you like. With cinnamon and nutmeg.”

Savannah blinked fast. “You remembered.”

“Of course I did.”

He poured wine into her glass, then into his own. They clinked glasses and took a sip. She couldn’t taste anything. Her tongue was numb.

Marcus started talking about his day some presentation, a new client, a coworker’s hilarious Zoom mishap. Savannah nodded, laughed at the right moments, and said “wow” when he paused.

But her mind was a thousand miles away.

She kept thinking about Damien’s hand in her hair. His voice in her ear. The raw, brutal way he’d made her forget her own name.

She blinked, and Marcus was looking at her.

“You okay?” he asked, concern shadowing his voice. “You’ve barely touched your food.”

Savannah picked up her fork and forced a bite. “I’m just tired. It’s been a long day.”

He nodded. “I get that. But you deserve to be celebrated.”

“I know. Thank you for this. Really.”

He smiled and reached across the table for her hand. His thumb brushed over her knuckles. “You’re my whole world, Sav.”

Her heart twisted.

She didn’t deserve him.

She didn’t deserve any of this.

Later – The Living Room

They sat on the couch, a movie playing. She didn’t know which one just background noise to keep the silence away. Marcus pulled her close, her head resting on his shoulder.

But the longer she sat there, the more her body tensed.

She could still feel Damien’s hands on her. His mouth. The ache between her legs. The tremble that hadn’t fully left her.

Marcus shifted slightly. “You’re so quiet tonight.”

She turned her face into his shoulder. “I think I’m just… overwhelmed. Life stuff.”

He kissed her forehead. “Want to talk about it?”

“No,” she said too quickly. Then softened. “Not yet.”

He accepted that without pushing. That’s who he was. Kind. Patient. Steady.

And that made her feel even worse.

“I’m gonna go shower,” she said, pulling away. “Wash the day off.”

“Okay.” He let her go with a smile. “I’ll wait up.”

The Shower

She stood under the stream of water, letting it scald her skin. Her body remembered Damien too vividly. The way he made her come undone. The way he didn’t ask, didn’t wait, didn’t care.

And yet, she hadn’t stopped him.

She’d gone willingly.

Eagerly.

What did that say about her?

She pressed her forehead to the tile. “God, what’s wrong with me?”

She hated herself. But not enough to wish she could undo it.

And that terrified her.

Back in Bed

She returned to the bedroom wrapped in a towel. Marcus was already under the covers, reading.

He looked up and smiled. “Feel better?”

She nodded. “Yeah. A little.”

“You sure you’re okay?”

She hesitated. Then nodded again. “Just tired.”

He set the book down and opened his arms. “Come here.”

She slid into the bed, into his arms, into the safe place she’d always known.

His warmth wrapped around her. His breath was steady. His heartbeat calm.

But hers wasn’t.

She closed her eyes and let the lie sit heavy on her chest.

She had gone to Damien.

And she’d want to go again.

Even if it destroyed everything.