Atlas

ꜰᴏʀᴛʏ-ᴛᴡᴏ

"So tell me, darling," Mrs. Whinebrook starts as we're sitting in the limousine that was, in fact, not waiting outside for her. "Do you think he is cheating on you?"

I'm not sure if that's a natural reflex or if I truly believe it, but my head shakes instantly. "I think there is something he doesn't tell me, but I don't think Atlas would ever do such thing."

"I would be shocked if he did."

Shocked is an understatement. I'd probably throw every possible thing close to me at him. As much as I know myself, I'd start to cry, not let him touch me, figure out how to—okay no. Before I even let myself think about what I would do, I should wait until he gets home so we can talk.

That is what adults do—or should do, at least. They talk and solve problems. They don't work on a plan as to how to leave the house without the spouse noticing.

As we reach the house, Mrs. Whinebrook is kind enough to help me with Allie and the stroller. Not that I really needed help, but I like Mrs. Whinebrook's company. As long as I'm not all alone, I won't overthink this.

We sit on the porch, talking for a little while. She tells me all about her daughter and how hard it was letting her go. She's nineteen now, or so Mrs. Whinebrook says. She went to college a year ago, but seemingly quit, which is why she's moving back home.

It's nice hearing about how excited Mrs. Whinebrook is for her daughter to come back, yet I can't stop thinking about what it'll be like once Allie is old enough to do the same. Time passes far too fast, in a blink of an eye, she'll be able to speak, walk, go to school, graduate, move out. The thought alone could make me cry.

"Would you like to come inside, Mrs. Whinebrook? It's getting a bit cold," I ask, giving her a warm smile.

"Oh, I would love to, but your husband never invites people inside. I only ever see the same coming to visit."

I chuckle because she's right. We don't have any other visitors except for the same ones. And Lisa, apparently. Though, Mrs. Whinebrook says, Lisa doesn't seem to be that unexpected here. "I'm not my husband now, am I?"

"I wouldn't want you to get in trouble, darling."

"Trouble?" My forehead wrinkles, eyebrows draw together in confusion. "I wouldn't get in trouble for inviting you in. Or ever, really. Atlas isn't half as bad as everyone thinks."

"I'm not sure about that, darling," she says with a slight smile.

I'm confused. What is she talking about? "Atlas isn't the asshole to me that he is to everyone else." I'm not sure if she's truly concerned for me, or just being weird about my relationship to my husband. God, does she think he made me his personal maid or something?

"Very well."

We walk inside the house and I show Mrs. Whinebrook to the living room where we take a seat. Well, me after offering her something to drink, or eat, or anything her heart could desire.