“If you stand before those examiners tomorrow, you can forget that you are still my wife.”
Selena Herrera felt the glass of water freeze between her fingers even before she truly understood what Hunter had just told her.
It was almost eleven at night in her apartment in Madison, and on the dining room table lay eight years of pure sacrifice: the printed thesis, the final notes, two flash drives with her presentation, and a worn notebook filled with handwritten observations.
Her doctoral defense at the university was scheduled for the following morning, and she had spent countless nights imagining that eve in a thousand different ways, but she never imagined it would end up like this.
Hunter’s mother, Barbara, had been staying at their house for two days without being invited, having arrived from Ohio with her stiff smile and her exhausting habit of having a loud opinion on absolutely everything.
