My husband arrived at my door with my cousin, two babies, and a smug grin, declaring, ‘She lives here now.’ I handed him the keys, smiled back, and said “HOPE YOU ENJOY THE HOUSE UNTIL TOMORROW”

near the fireplace, hands tucked into his pockets like he was trying to control where they went.

And on my couch—

Lena. My cousin.

Holding a baby.

Another one in a carrier on my rug. My rug. The one I had spent three months choosing like it was going to define the entire room.

A diaper bag was open on my coffee table.

Like she lived there.

Like my home had continue reading …