The door was meant to be open. This was supposed to be an "ok" honeymoon but how much longer should I let this feeling define me?

I stayed in my room while the house prepared for his departure.

Late evening bulb lights slanted across the floor. From behind the closed door I heard the low roll of a suitcase, staff voices, Sam speaking in the clipped tone he used when he wanted things done quickly. I did not go out. I stood near the window instead and watched the black car appear at the end of the path. Ben walked toward it with a bag in one hand. He did...