I Thought She Did “Nothing” All Day — Then a Single Box Proved Me Wrong

No argument. No tears. She turned back to the sink and kept washing dishes.

She didn’t go to the reunion.

And she didn’t really talk to me for days.

She answered logistics — practice schedules, grocery lists, bills — but the warmth disappeared. The spontaneous laughter. The hand brushing my back as she passed me in the hallway.

At night, she faced the wall, her body a quiet barrier I didn’t know how to cross.

I told myself she was overreacting.

I told myself I was being realistic.

Two weeks later, a large box arrived on the porch with her name written neatly across the top.

No return address.

She was upstairs settling the baby when I brought it inside.

Curiosity got the better of me.

I told myself I was just checking for damage.

I opened it.

And felt something sink in my chest.