The dinner idea wouldn’t die.
My husband brought it up again over takeout and half-warm fries, like it was the most normal thing in the world.
“I think it’d be good,” he said. “For us. Show appreciation.”
My chest tightened. “He’s busy.”
“So are we,” he replied. “But he makes time.”
That landed harder than he intended.
I nodded slowly. “I’ll ask.”
I hated how natural the lie sounded.
When I messaged Caleb, my hands shook.
My husband wants to invite you to dinner. I don’t know what to do.
The reply came fast. Too fast.
That wouldn’t be appropriate.
Relief and fear collided.
It would confuse boundaries, he continued. And invite unnecessary scrutiny.
Then what do I say? I asked.
There was a pause. Long enough for my mind to spiral.
Tell him I recommended focusing inward for now, Caleb wrote. Marriages heal best without outside influence.
I stared at the screen.
Outside influence.
The irony almost made me laugh.