Page 90 of The Humiliated Wife

No one would see his name on it. Fiona might never know it came from him. But that wasn’t the point.

The point was that this work—the invisible kind, the kind no one noticed unless it was broken—would make her days a little easier. Maybe a parent would finally find the school contact form without rage-clicking through dead links. Maybe a grandparent could donate to her classroom without needing help. Maybe the homepage would feel just a little less sad.

Maybe she'd smile.

That was enough.

CHAPTER 37

Fiona

Fiona was foldinglaundry in the guest room when she heard Emma's surprised laugh from the kitchen.

"You made reservations?" Emma's voice carried down the hall, bright with delight. "At Rosetti's? How did you even get a table there on a Friday?"

Milo's voice was warm, pleased with himself. "Figured it was time I took my girl somewhere nice."

Fiona smiled, setting down a stack of towels. Through the thin walls, she could hear the rustle of movement, Emma probably doing that little bounce she did when she was excited about something.

"You don't have to dress up or anything," Milo continued, "but if you want to wear that blue dress—the one you wore to your cousin's wedding—I wouldn't complain."

"You remember that dress?" Emma's voice went soft.

"Course I remember. You looked incredible."

Fiona felt her chest warm as Emma's footsteps hurried toward her bedroom. A moment later, Emma appeared in the doorway, cheeks flushed, eyes bright.

"He made reservations," Emma said, like she was announcing a miracle. "Actual reservations. At the place I mentioned wanting to try like two months ago."

"That's wonderful," Fiona said, genuinely happy. "When's the last time you two went on a real date?"

Emma paused, thinking. "Honestly? I don't think we ever have. Not really. We just... hang out. Order takeout. Watch Netflix." She shook her head, grinning. "I don't know what's gotten into him, but I'm not complaining."

She disappeared into her closet, emerging with the blue dress Milo had mentioned. "Think this is too much?"

"It's perfect," Fiona said. "You look beautiful in that color."

Emma held the dress up to herself in the mirror, smoothing the fabric. "I forgot what it felt like, you know? Being excited about getting dressed up for someone. Having plans that require more effort than putting on sweatpants."

Fiona watched her sister's reflection, remembering that feeling. The flutter of anticipation when Dean used to take her to gallery openings or work events. Back when she'd thought he was proud to have her on his arm instead of wincing at her social missteps.

"You deserve this," Fiona said softly. "You deserve someone who makes an effort."

Emma caught her eye in the mirror. "You deserve it too, you know."

"I know," Fiona said, though the words felt hollow. "Someday."

Emma turned around, dress still clutched to her chest. "Fi, I don't want you to think—just because Milo's finally stepping up doesn't mean I'm going to abandon you here. You know that, right?"

"Em." Fiona stood up, reaching for her sister's hand. "Go. Have fun. Eat delicious food and let him pull out your chair and tell you you're beautiful. You've earned this."

Emma squeezed her fingers. "I love you."

"I love you too. Now go get ready before he changes his mind."

Emma laughed and headed for the bathroom. Fiona could hear her humming as she turned on the shower—actually humming, like she couldn't contain her happiness.

Fiona went back to folding laundry, listening to the sounds of her sister getting ready for a real date. The blow dryer, the clink of jewelry, the spray of perfume. Small sounds that meant someone was being cherished.