She stepped closer to me, the faint scent of her lavender perfume mixing with the steam from the kitchen.
“I can easily move into the guest room for the next month,” she said, her eyes shining with an eagerness that felt too bright for the dim room. “I will take over the nighttime bottle completely, and you two can finally get some real rest.”
“No,” I said, my voice firmer than I intended. “We need to figure this out ourselves, Mother.”
My mother’s smile tightened, her fingers gripping the edge of the dinner plate so hard her knuckles turned white. She adjusted her pearl necklace with her free hand, her gaze locked onto mine.
“I am only trying to save you from making a terrible mistake, Daniel,” she said, her voice dropping its sweet tone for a fraction of a second.
I looked at the white pill bottle on the counter, wondering why its contents seemed to make my wife drift further away from me.
By seven the next morning, the weak autumn light barely made its way through our heavy bedroom curtains.
