Tracy heard a knock on her door. It was soft, nervous. It told her it was Viktor.
“Yes, Viktor?”
Tracy’s voice was sweet and yet devoid of any emotion. She did not know what her husband wanted from her, for it had been years since he entered her room. Or even acknowledged her presence. Or she his.
She realized in that moment there was this huge gap between them that she had not even noticed for which married couple goes from being deeply in love to living in different rooms and knocking nervously for permission to enter?
Slowly, at a pace almost making the door creek like that of a haunted house, Viktor opened the door and stepped inside her room.
And in his hand, clutched tightly was a single cala lily.