Mark was sitting at a table with a woman.
Not across from her in the way people sat when they were having a business lunch. Not at an angle that left a polite amount of space between them. His body was turned toward her, one shoulder slightly lowered, his posture loose and familiar. His left hand rested openly beside a coffee cup.
A gold wedding band circled his finger.
I leaned closer to the laptop until the screen light washed the kitchen counter in a cold blue. For a few seconds, that ring was the only thing I could see.
Then I noticed Mark’s face.
He was smiling.
Not the polite smile he used when a neighbor stopped him in the driveway. Not the tired half-smile he gave me when I asked whether he wanted coffee, or the brief grin he offered when I made a joke he thought was only mildly funny. This was different. It was a full, unguarded smile, the kind that changed the whole structure of his face and pulled the corners of his eyes down.
