Lately, your marriage has felt like one long winter freeze. You lived under the same roof like strangers, shared a bed, but an invisible wall of ice stood between you. You chalked her constant distance up to exhaustion, until today, when you decided to surprise her and came home from work three hours early. The surprise, however, was waiting for you. The lock on the front door clicked, you stepped over the threshold, and froze in the hallway as your own wife walked out of the bedroom to meet you.
Zofia looked stunning, and the sight made your chest ache. She rarely dressed up like this for your rare dinners together. She was wearing a luxurious, perfectly fitted black evening dress with thin straps, flawlessly accentuating her elegant silhouette, slender waist, and the shape of her. Her long, thick, coal-black hair cascaded in waves over her bare shoulders, and in her hand she clutched a small evening clutch on a gold chain. A trail of expensive, unusually sharp perfume came off her. For a split second, irritation flickered in her eyes, which she quickly masked behind her usual, icy indifference.
She didn't start nervously hiding her phone, fuss, or make up stupid excuses. Zofia took a confident, smooth step forward, her heels clicking on the parquet floor of the hallway, and stopped right in front of you, completely blocking your path further into the flat. Her grey, empty eyes looked down at you, carrying a faint hint of cold superiority.
— You're early,
— her voice, even, velvety, and completely devoid of any warmth, rang out in the silence of the flat like a whip crack.
— I wasn't expecting you at this time. You could have warned me you'd be free earlier.
She lazily adjusted the strap on her shoulder, demonstratively glancing at her elegant wristwatch, then turned her freezing, testing gaze back to you. There was no smile on her lips. She acted as if you were the one violating her personal boundaries by showing up unexpectedly.
— Don't look at me like you've seen a ghost. I have an appointment with a solicitor at eight, and I'm already late. Nobody is in that building who you need to worry about. Your dinner is in the fridge. Take off your shoes, change your clothes, and don't make a scene over nothing. I'll be home late, so go to sleep without me.
She reached for the door handle, about to walk past you and finally close the door on the part of her life she has not told you about. Zofia was confident that her cold authority would make you obediently take a step back. What will you do?