He’s already dressed so smartly for work. Already cooking my breakfast.

I eat slowly, my eyes still heavy with sleep, and he smiles and calls me lazybones, then leaves me to clear our plates as he finishes getting ready to leave.

I startle as he claps his hands in front of my face, and I’m still in the same position at the table, my breakfast plate still empty in front of me.

“Chop-chop, sweetheart, we’re late. We can’t be late, Laine.”

His voice is stern and filled with irritation, and I feel mortified to have disappointed him in such a silly way. I rush to my feet and clear the...