Chapter 1 - Put the Remote Down

The remote hit the coffee table hard enough to make Ethan Parker look up.

“No,” his two-year-old son said.

Ethan blinked. “No?”

Noah stood between the couch and the table, one small hand still hovering over the black remote he had just taken from his father. His knees were bent in that uncertain toddler stance, but his face was absolutely serious.

Behind him, Claire staggered into the living room with a white laundry basket stacked so high with towels she could barely see over it.

Ethan had been watching a football game. Five minutes earlier, he had told himself he would get up after the next drive.

Then after the commercial.

Then after one more play.

Noah pointed at Claire.

“Mommy.”

“I see Mommy.” Ethan smiled, embarrassed. “Come here, buddy.”

Noah shook his head and pointed harder.

Claire stopped behind the couch. Her cream sweater was stretched at one shoulder where the basket pressed against it. A loose strand of auburn hair stuck to her cheek. She looked tired enough to fall asleep standing up.

“Apparently,” she said, “you’ve been reassigned.”

Ethan laughed, stood, and took the basket from her.

The weight surprised him.

“Why is this so heavy?”

“Because your son believes towels reproduce when nobody is looking.”

Noah followed Ethan toward the kitchen like a tiny supervisor. When Ethan set the basket on the island, Claire crouched and opened her arms. Noah walked straight into them.

She lifted him and hugged him against her chest.

For three seconds, Ethan watched the two people he loved most in the world smile at each other.

Then his phone buzzed in his pocket.

He looked at the screen.

UNKNOWN NUMBER.

He almost ignored it.

A text appeared.

WE NEED TO TALK ABOUT THE $84,000 BEFORE CLAIRE FINDS OUT.

Ethan’s smile disappeared.

Across the room, Claire was still holding Noah.

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Then she looked directly at Ethan and said, “Who keeps texting you?”\n\nEthan had always thought of himself as the kind of husband who showed up. He fixed loose cabinet doors, remembered Claire's coffee order, and never missed Noah's pediatric appointments. But lately showing up had become something he measured by being physically in the room. He had stopped asking whether he was actually present.

That realization arrived too late to feel noble. It felt like being caught asleep at the wheel.