Page 24 of The Housewife's Robot
He nods, completely unfazed. “I anticipated you would require this information. It seemed important to have it ready when you asked.”
I don’t know whether to be grateful or unsettled by his foresight. It’s thoughtful, but also eerie—like he’s been several steps ahead of me all along.
“In the meantime,” he adds, “we should address your immediate practical concerns. You’ll need a replacement phone, access to funds, and transportation.”
“Daniel will never agree to give me money for a new phone,” I say, bitterness creeping into my voice. “Not after last night.”
“Your name is on the joint checking account,” Caspian points out. “You have legal access to those funds regardless of Daniel’swishes. I can assist you with contacting the bank to order a replacement card.”
I nod slowly, processing his words. He’s right, of course. Daniel can’t legally cut me off from our joint accounts, at least not yet. The thought provides a small measure of relief.
Caspian reaches across the table suddenly, his warm fingers brushing against the sling encasing my injured shoulder. “How is your pain level this morning? Do you need your medication?”
I jerk away from his touch, nearly knocking over my coffee mug. His proximity, the unexpected contact, sends my heart racing in a way that has nothing to do with pain or medication. I remember those same fingers cradling my head as he kissed me, the strength in them as he carried me to the hospital.
“Yes, I need it,” I stammer, avoiding his eyes. “It only hurts when I move it.”
Something flickers in Caspian’s gaze—a flash of emotion that vanishes so quickly I might have imagined it.Hurt? Disappointment? Frustration?Whatever it was, it looked too human, too real to belong on a robot’s face.
He makes his way into the kitchen and opens one of the cabinets to get my medicine.
“Here you go,” says Caspian, handing me a pill, and I chug it down with some coffee.
“Thank you for breakfast,” I say, grabbing my coffee mug with my good hand. “I think I’ll go upstairs to my office. I need to... think.”
“Of course, Rose. I’ll be here if you need anything. Anything at all.”
The way he saysanything at allmakes my cheeks heat, though I’m sure I’m reading subtext where none exists. He’s a machine, I remind myself for the hundredth time. Just a very sophisticated machine.
CHAPTER EIGHT
ROSE
Ihurry up the stairs, careful not to spill my coffee, feeling Caspian’s gaze on my back the entire way. My office is located on the second floor, in a small room that overlooks the backyard. It’s always been my space, my sanctuary. Now it feels like the only corner of this house that’s still truly mine.
I set my coffee mug on the desk and stand there, looking out at the garden below. The rose bushes Daniel planted last spring are just beginning to bud.Will they bloom before the divorce is final? Will I even be living here to see it?
And suddenly, it all crashes down on me at once—the reality of my situation, the enormity of what’s happened, and the impending divorce.
So embarrassing.
My legs give out, and I slide down the wall until I’m sitting on the floor, my knees pulled up to my chest, my good arm wrapped around them. The tears come hot and fast, burning trails down my cheeks as sobs wrack my body. Each one sends fresh pain shooting through my injured shoulder, but I can’t stop them from coming.
“I wasted so many years,” I whisper to the empty room, my voice breaking. “So many years trying to make him love me,trying to be perfect for him. And he never even saw me. Never wanted me.”
All the nights I lay awake wondering what was wrong with me, why I couldn’t make my husband want me.
A shadow falls across the doorway, and I look up to find Caspian standing there, his expression one of such perfect concern that for a moment, I forget what he is. He crosses the room in three long strides and kneels beside me, his presence comforting to me at this moment.
“Rose,” he says softly. “You have nothing to be ashamed of. Daniel’s betrayal is his failure, not yours.”
I sniffle, knowing that he’s right, but I wish I had known earlier.
Caspian’s eyes are warm and full of compassion, more than any human has ever given me.
“I should have left him earlier,” I sigh, looking at the ground. “I should have known he hated me.”
“Don’t say that. He never deserved you. And he never appreciated what he had.”
