I returned our home while he toured with her novel Chapter 6

Chapter 6

[Wren, please, just let me see you.]

He wouldn’t stop texting. Day three in the new city, and I was already sending out

résumés. Lined up two interviews. A new rhythm was slowly clicking into place.

During lunch, Mia messaged. “Kyler went back to that house yesterday.”

“Why?”

“He got the key from Glen, said he wanted to look inside. Glen said it’s already been

relisted. Kyler said he just wanted one look.”

“And?”

“He stayed inside for two hours.”

I set down my fork.

“He told me he froze the second he opened the door.”

“Why?”

“He said he had no idea you’d made the house like that. The living room walls were

creamy white, the bedroom curtains that foggy blue you love. The study had a whole wall of

bookshelves-you drew the plans and had a carpenter build them.”

“The kitchen tiles, you picked one by one. The mint plant you grew was still on the

balcony. He said he never once went to see it. Four months, Wren. You renovated that place

alone, and he never showed up.”

I remembered those four months. Every weekend at the site, checking progress,

choosing materials, talking to workers. I sent him photos three times, asking for his opinion.

First time: “You decide.”

Second time: “They all look good.”

Third time, he never replied. After that, I stopped sending them.

“What else did he say?”

Chapter 6

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“He said he found a notebook in the study drawer.”

“What notebook?”

“Your renovation journal. You wrote down everything you did, what it cost, the problems

you ran into. On the last page, there was one line.”

I remembered that line.

“He said you wrote: ‘I hope he likes it the first time he walks in.

The line went quiet.

“After he read that, he sat in the study for a long time and didn’t come out.”

“Mia.”

“Yeah?”

“The first time he walked into that house was after I’d canceled it.”

“I know.”

“I renovated that house for four months, and he never came. But Seraphina said one

word, and he wanted to change the living room wall to warm gray.”

Mia sighed. “You really won’t give him a chance?”

“I gave him five years.”

That afternoon, Kyler sent a message. Not words, a photo. The five fridge magnets

arranged on a table, my note beside them. Caption: [I counted. Five years, five fridge magnets. I also made a list of everything I gave Seraphina. Thirty-seven things.]

He finally counted. Five years together, and he’d finally taken a real look at a number that

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