The house was quiet, the kind of stillness that only happens after midnight. The clock in the hallway ticked softly, the refrigerator hummed low, and the night air crept through the open window over the sink. She padded into the kitchen barefoot, her thin nightgown clinging to her body with every step.
She thought she was alone.
She reached for a glass in the cupboard, rubbing sleep from her eyes. When she turned, her breath caught in her throat.
He was sitting at the head of the table.
Her father-in-law.
He leaned back in the wooden chair like he owned every inch of the house, a tumbler of amber whiskey in his hand. The shadows caught the hard lines of his jaw and the salt and pepper at his temples. His shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, the sleeves rolled to his elbows, exposing ve
