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"After the lock finished saying ""Welcome home, Vivian,"" nobody in the living room was laughing anymore.
Adrian set his glass on the entryway console, his voice flat. ""Why's everyone just standing around? Go on in.""
Vivian kept her head down and said softly, ""Adrian, maybe I should go. Claire seems upset.""
Adrian glanced at me. ""She's not the type to make a fuss.""
That landed harder than the word guest had.
I'm not the type to make a fuss.
So for nine years, he never went public with me, and I said it was fine.
He stayed out at work dinners till three in the morning, and I left the light on waiting, and I said it was fine.
This place, from bare walls to the last cushion, I ran myself ragged over, and he showed up for ten minutes on the final walkthrough, and I said that was fine too.
Vivian's hand was still resting beside the lock.
The screen glowed, like it was reminding everyone she was the one this place actually recognized.
One of the friends jumped in to smooth it over. ""Oh come on, it's just a label in the system. Change it and it's done. Claire, don't take it to heart.""
Adrian took the cue and pulled out his phone, opening the smart-home app.
I stood next to him and saw the access list.
First, Vivian.
Label: Homeowner.
Second, Adrian.
Third, Claire.
Label: Guest, expired.
His finger paused, like he'd finally realized how bad it looked.
Vivian said quickly, ""Adrian, I really didn't know it was still there. Back then I just came by to take a look.""
Adrian closed the page. ""It's in the past. No point holding onto it.""
I asked, ""Then why has my access expired?""
He frowned. ""Claire, it's the housewarming. Don't kill the mood.""
He said it lightly, like one more question from me would just be me being difficult.
I looked around the living room.
I picked the couch.
I measured for the dining table and bought it.
That rattan lamp on the balcony, I went to three stores before I found it.
But the first welcome everyone heard at the door wasn't for me.
Vivian suddenly reached out and tugged Adrian's sleeve. ""Adrian, please don't fight with Claire over me. It'll make me feel awful.""
Adrian looked down at her, his voice softening. ""It's not your fault.""
For a second, I almost laughed.
Not her fault.
Then whose fault was it?
Was it mine?
My fault, for spending nine years wearing myself down into a guest with expired access.
At the table, everyone got loud and lively again fast.
Vivian sat at Adrian's right hand.
That had been my seat.
Someone asked her, ""Vivian, are you leaving again this time, or staying?""
She smiled. ""We'll see. Adrian says there are more opportunities back here.""
Adrian deboned a piece of fish and put it on her plate, reminding her quietly, ""Careful, there are bones.""
I looked down at the soup gone cold in my bowl.
In nine years, he never once remembered I can't stand cilantro.
But that Vivian couldn’t manage fish bones, he remembered perfectly.
A friend teased, ""Mr. Vance, you've got that down a little too smoothly.""
Adrian didn't deny it. He just said mildly, ""She wasn't in good health, back then.""
Vivian blushed. ""That was so long ago, and you still remember.""
My hand tightened around my fork.
Adrian saw it, and his brow creased. ""Claire, don't make a face.""
I put down my fork. ""I'm going to grab something from the kitchen.""
In the kitchen, I turned on the tap.
The running water drowned out the laughter in the living room.
My phone buzzed. It was the contractor, reminding me about the final payment.
""Hi Claire, about the five thousand dollars you fronted earlier, Mr. Vance says you should settle it on your end for now.""
I stared at that message for a long time.
The house is in Adrian's name.
The access list has Vivian living in it.
But the bill lands on me.
The tap was still running.
Adrian walked in, shut off the water, and lowered his voice. ""What exactly are you trying to do tonight?""
I held out my phone. ""The final payment for the renovation. You pay it.""
He glanced at it. ""Just front this for now, it's not much. I'll send it back to you later.""
""And which day is ‘later’?""
Adrian's face darkened. ""Claire, you don't even have this much trust in me now?""
I looked at him. ""I just want to know what I am in this house.""
He was quiet for a second, then his tone went cold. ""You've got the fiancee spot. I'm letting you live in the house. What more do you want?""
Vivian's voice carried in from the living room. ""Adrian, is everything okay in there?""
Adrian turned at once. ""We're fine.""
I stood in the kitchen doorway, looking at his back.
The smart lock spoke again.
""Welcome home, Vivian.""
So she'd only stepped out to take a call.
This time, nobody in the living room tried to smooth it over.
Adrian didn't look at me either. After the housewarming ended, Vivian didn't leave.
She sat on the living room couch, Adrian's coat draped over her, a cup of hot water cradled in her hands.
Adrian came back from seeing off the last of the guests, and the first thing he said was, ""Vivian's taking the guest room tonight.""
I was clearing the plates, and my hand stopped midair.
""The guest bed isn't made.""
""Go make it.""
He said it like it was nothing.
Like it was obviously my job.
Vivian stood up right away. ""Don't bother, I'll just go to a hotel. Claire's already upset.""
Adrian looked at me. ""See? She's more reasonable than you.""
I set the plates back on the table, and the china clinked.
""Adrian, you want your ex to stay in our home, and you want me to make her bed?""
He frowned. ""What ex? We were never together.""
Vivian lowered her eyes. ""It’s not what you think. Adrian and I were just in high school together.""
""A high school classmate gets registered as the homeowner of our place?""
Adrian's voice went cold. ""Claire, stop biting down on this.""
I looked at him. ""Then change it. Now.""
He picked up his phone, but he didn't open the app.
Vivian suddenly gave two soft coughs.
Adrian put the phone down immediately. ""Drop it for now. She's not feeling well.""
I let out a small laugh.
So even a label in the system has to wait until she feels better before it can be changed.
At ten o'clock, I took the guest sheets out of the closet.
It was the spare bedding set I'd bought for the marriage.
Vivian followed behind me and said softly, ""You really don't have to be hostile toward me. Adrian's just sentimental.""
I snapped the sheet open. ""Moving into someone else's home is pretty sentimental too.""
Her face went a little pale. ""I really wasn't trying to take anything.""
""Then delete the access.""
Vivian bit her lip. ""If Adrian won't delete it, there's nothing I can do.""
She said it softly, but it cut like a knife.
She didn't have to take anything.
Adrian would keep it for her.
Halfway through making the bed, Adrian walked in holding a pair of slippers.
""Vivian's feet get cold. Give her these.""
I looked over.
They were the wool slippers I'd bought for myself.
I hadn't even worn them yet.
I said, ""There are disposable guest slippers in the closet.""
Adrian sounded impatient. ""She hurt her ankle. She can't wear thin soles.""
Vivian said quickly, ""It's fine, I can wear the disposable ones.""
Adrian had already set the slippers down by her feet. ""Be good.""
He said it low.
I suddenly remembered years ago, when his startup had failed and he was running a fever in his rental.
I carried him to the hospital on my back, running up and down to pay the bills.
When he came to, all he said was, ""Claire, stop managing me all the time.""
Back then I thought he just wasn't used to depending on anyone.
Now I know it wasn't that he didn't know how to be tender.
He just wasn't tender with me.
I smoothed the sheet flat. ""You two talk. I'm going to my room.""
Adrian came out after me and caught my wrist in the hallway. ""Do you really have to be like this tonight?""
His fingertips were cold. The grip wasn't hard, but it didn't let me pull free.
I said, ""Let go.""
""Claire, I know you feel wronged, but Vivian just moved back home and she has no one around.""
""And so?""
""Just give a little. For her.""
When those words landed, my throat went tight.
Give a little for her.
I'd given for nine years.
Given her room to shine in his past, room to stay spotless in his memories, room to be the homeowner on his lock.
And now my slippers, my guest room, my home, I was supposed to give those up too.
I asked quietly, ""Adrian, how much further can I give?""
Something flickered in his eyes, then he pushed it down. ""Don't make it sound so ugly.""
Vivian poked her head out of the guest room. ""Adrian, am I causing trouble between you two?""
Adrian let go of me and turned toward her. ""No. Get some rest.""
I stood in the hallway.
A faint red ring was left around my wrist.
On the nightstand in the master bedroom was a photo of the two of us.
In it, I was smiling hard.
Adrian stood beside me, looking as blank as if he were at a company party.
That night, I didn't sleep in the master bedroom.
I went to the study.
But the moment I opened the door, I saw an old photo album sitting on the desk.
The cover read:
""Vivian's Eighteenth Birthday."" The first page was in Adrian's handwriting.
""May Vivian always be free.""
I sat down on the study floor and turned the pages one by one.
In the photos Vivian was in her school uniform, standing on the track, in the auditorium, at the beach.
Every shot was taken from up close.
A few were clearly taken without her knowing.
Tucked into the last page was a note.
""If I'd said something that day, would you have stayed?""
It was signed Adrian.
The date was nine years ago.
The same year he got together with me.
When the study door pushed open, I was still holding the note.
Adrian's face changed instantly. ""Who said you could go through my things?""
I held up the album. ""This is your high school classmate?""
He came over and reached for it.
I didn't let go.
The page crumpled in the tug, and a white crease cut across Vivian's smiling face.
Adrian's eyes went cold. ""Claire, don't touch her things.""
Her things.
Sitting in the study of my home.
And he called them her things.
I let go.
He cradled the album to his chest, like he was protecting something fragile and precious.
I asked, ""And what about my things?""
Adrian didn't follow.
I pointed at the bottom of the bookshelf. ""My college award certificates, my project files, the letters I used to write you, they're all still in the moving boxes. You said they were too messy, no room for them.""
He was quiet for a moment. ""We'll sort those out later.""
""But Vivian's album has a place?""
Adrian rubbed his brow. ""Do you have to compare?""
I said, ""I'm not the one comparing. You've been telling me all along that I don't even rate a comparison.""
Vivian walked in with the coat over her shoulders, a sob in her voice. ""Don't blame Adrian for this. I left those photos behind before I went abroad. He probably just forgot to throw them out.""
Adrian said at once, ""No need to throw them out.""
Vivian froze.
So did I.
He looked at me, like he'd finally stopped bothering to hide it. ""This is my past. I have the right to keep it.""
I nodded. ""And what about my present?""
Adrian frowned. ""Claire, here you go again.""
The smart speaker in the living room suddenly chimed.
""Vivian's sleep routine is now on.""
The lights dimmed on their own.
The curtains drew slowly shut.
The scent diffuser sent up a thin white mist. Gardenia.
I don't like gardenia.
Adrian knew that.
When we'd picked the scent, I'd said it was too sweet, that it gave me a headache after a while.
He'd said then we wouldn't use it.
But now the system had Vivian's sleep routine saved.
Standing there in that scent, I suddenly felt exhausted.
Vivian said softly, ""I'm sorry, Claire. I don't even know why Adrian still went and saved my preferences when he set up the system here.""
Adrian didn't explain.
He just looked at me. ""It's late. Stop making a scene.""
I laughed a little. ""Adrian, is that all you ever say?""
His face darkened. ""Then what do you want to hear?""
I looked at the album. ""I want to hear you say I matter more than she does.""
The study went quiet.
Adrian's fingers rubbed the corner of the album, and for a long while he said nothing.
Vivian dropped her head and started to cry. ""Claire, please, don't push him.""
And suddenly I understood.
Some answers, the silence says everything.
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