“Then go find out.”
I wanted to argue. To tell her that a cruise wouldn’t fix more than two decades of a life dismantled overnight. But when I opened my mouth, nothing came out.
Because she was right.
I wanted to argue.
I’d built everything around my husband.
His schedule.
His career moves.
His preferences at dinner.
Somewhere along the way, I’d stopped being Eleanor and started being Marcus’s wife.
And now that title had no job description.
I’d built everything around my husband.
***
Chloe called that night. Her voice was steadier than mine.
“Mom, Aunty Diane told me. Go on the cruise. Please. I can’t watch you do this to yourself anymore.”
“Sweetheart, I’m fine.”
“You’re not. And that’s okay. But go.”
So I packed. I folded sweaters I hadn’t worn in years and tucked away the questions I couldn’t stop asking.
“Sweetheart, I’m fine.”
***
At the terminal, I stood at the gangway and made myself a quiet promise.
