That night, the wind cut through me as I stepped out of my car in Naperville, Lake Michigan’s chill riding the air like a warning I didn’t yet understand. I remember pulling my coat tighter, balancing the small velvet box in my purse—the vintage watch I had hunted for months. Something meaningful. Something lasting.
Something I thought our marriage still was.
I was early. Forty-five minutes early.
For once, everything in my life had gone according to plan.
I had no idea I was about to walk into something that would destroy every plan I had ever made.
The house was already alive.
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