“Fine, I am going to watch television,” he said while walking toward the living room. “Clean this up.”
The smell of his cheap aftershave lingered behind him while the apartment filled with the sound of a television show that used canned laughter and exaggerated applause. Megan stayed in the kitchen washing dishes while warm water ran over her hands and her eyes drifted toward the window.
Outside the courtyard of the building was dark and wet from earlier rain, while yellow streetlights painted long reflections across the asphalt. Somewhere inside her memory there still existed another Megan who once spent entire afternoons drawing in notebooks and dreaming about becoming an illustrator.
That younger version of herself laughed loudly and believed the confident man she had married was her destiny. She dried her hands slowly with a cloth and noticed the electricity bill attached to the refrigerator with a magnet, the red notice reminding her that the payment deadline had already passed.
For six months Scott had been working irregularly while spending money on vague business ideas with friends who promised quick profits and exciting opportunities. Meanwhile Megan quietly sold old items online, accepted small embroidery orders from neighbors, and cut every possible personal expense to keep rent, groceries, and utilities paid.
None of that mattered to Scott.
To him her effort remained invisible.
Megan stood still for several seconds in front of the sink listening to the television and to Scott’s voice complaining about something on the screen. The apartment felt warm yet a cold sensation traveled along her spine as if a hidden door had opened somewhere nearby.
She glanced again at the electricity bill and then noticed another older notice folded beside it. Her phone vibrated gently with a notification from the online marketplace where she occasionally sold handmade crafts.
Someone was asking about a set of vintage glasses.
Megan turned off the screen.
Not tonight.
She walked into the bedroom while Scott remained absorbed in the television without asking where she was going. In the closet behind several folded towels Megan kept a thick brown envelope that she carefully removed and held for a moment as if confirming that it truly existed.