The Killer in your Reflection

Chapter 3

Saturday
Loch Haven, Scotland

I wake up at seven a.m. as usual to the same view, but today, it is not all the same. I am not alone in this cosy little house. I heard some sounds in my sleep—the front door unlocking, heavy footsteps, the water running in the bathroom—but I was still half-asleep and didn't feel like getting up. Logan keeps a spare key as he comes in late often. The space next to me on the bed looks untouched; the bedspread is neatly tucked in without a wrinkle. So, I guess we are not even sleeping on the same bed anymore. I take my time indulging in a slow shower and getting dressed, as I am reluctant to face my husband. When I run out of things to do and have to leave the bedroom at some point, I take a deep breath and step into the living room. Of course, he is there.

He is asleep on the sofá with a thin-layered sofa cover wrapped around him, as he lets out soft snores. It is almost ten; he must have slept late. He looks like a baby in his sleep—utterly peaceful, like he doesn't have a care in the world. I envy him as I don't remember when that kind of deep sleep came to me. On most nights, Logan used to fall asleep the minute he hit the bed, and I lay admiring him. His strong features softened, and his closed, unguarded eyes appeared dreamy.

He is the man I loved deeply and who loved me more than anything else in the world. I can't pinpoint when or how things changed. The distance between us grew, gradually but significantly. He is lying only six feet away from me, yet he seems so far away. I sigh as my admiration for him lasts only a few seconds before irritation replaces it. It has been less than twelve hours since he got home, and the coffee table already looks messy. I make sure to always keep it uncluttered with only a vase at the centre. But now I see the vase is outshined by Logan's glasses, his wallet, and keys, all scattered in an unkempt manner. My husband's visit no longer feels like a reunion of love, but a disruption in my daily routine.

I let him catch up on his sleep while I go out grocery shopping. When I return, he is no longer on the sofá. He comes out of the bedroom, looking fresh. We stare at each other awkwardly as I place the grocery bags on the table.

"You were deep in sleep; I didn't want to wake you," I say.

Should I say 'hi' or 'good morning' first? It is ridiculous, I have forgotten how to be a wife.

"Yeah, I was exhausted," he responds.

"I could tell you got in pretty late." I agree. "How was your journey?"

He shrugs. "It was okay, as usual. But nothing can match the comfort of your bed at home."

I didn't ask him to sleep on the sofá. "You could have slept on the bed next to me," I say after a moment of hesitation.

I can see him realise he dug his own grave through his previous statement.

"Yeah, I know. I—I didn't want to disturb your sleep."

So, it is for my consideration. How convenient!

"I got you a Toblerone bar; it's in the fridge." He tells me.

"Thanks, that's so thoughtful of you," I say. 'To forget your wife the whole week and buy her a chocolate bar at the train station back home,' I add in my head.

He looks at me, pressing his lips together. He is probably thinking: Is that all? Am I free to watch my game now?

"It seems you were really busy all week, even on Friday evening." I try not to sound sarcastic. "I called you; you didn't answer."

He looks like a school kid questioned about unfinished homework. "Yes, work has been extremely hectic." He doesn't even make an effort to not make it seem like a lie.