Car Detailing

Jason didn’t look up from his phone when he spoke. “Hey, I’ve got the car scheduled for detailing today. Noon appointment.”

Emily glanced over from the kitchen, halfway through packing Chloe’s diaper bag. “Wait—today?”

Jason tapped at his phone, expression unreadable. “Yeah. Been meaning to get it done. The guy only had a noon slot left. Shouldn’t take long.”

Her eyebrows lifted. “And you’re just now telling me?”

Jason shrugged without looking. “Didn’t want to forget.”

Emily stared at him. “Jason, I have things to do. You can’t just drop this on me last second and expect me to rearrange everything.”

His laugh was sharp, dry. “You were just going to the gym anyway,” he cut in, glancing up now with that tight, smug twist of his mouth. “You can read a book in the lobby while they work on it.”

“Jesus, Jason—do you even hear yourself?” she said, voice low but shaking. “I haven’t slept more than four hours in a row for six months. I haven’t had a real break since the baby was born. And now I’m supposed to just—what—sit in a waiting room soaked in tire shine and burnt coffee while they steam clean your car?”

She wanted to scream.

She hadn’t been touched in months. Not properly. Not with need. Her body was still swollen in places, unfamiliar, sensitive, hungry. And Jason—Jason moved through the house like a ghost now. A sarcastic, increasingly distant ghost.

She blinked hard, breathing once through her nose.

“Fine,” she said flatly, snatching the keys from the counter. “I’ll go.”

She didn’t wait for his response. Didn’t want to hear it. As she closed the door behind her, the silence echoed louder than any fight.

And as she buckled herself into the driver’s seat, the resentment simmered. Thick, low, unresolved.