Monday early morning

Cherie wakes as the sun hits the window. She is lying on her side, her back to Chad, who is already stirring, his hand reaching out to pat her shoulder in a "good morning" gesture that feels impossibly thin and hollow after the dream.

“Morning, Cherie,” he mumbles, his voice raspy. “Big day at the firm today. Got that presentation for the downtown plaza. I’m going to need a lot of coffee.”

Cherie closes her eyes, a secret, heavy smile touching her lips. “I’ll have it ready for you, Chad. Exactly the way you like it.”

She slips out of bed, her skin still tingling with the memory of the hands. She walks toward the bathroom, and as she passes the mirror, she doesn't see the "Architect’s Wife." She sees a woman who is ready to spend her Monday with a family, and a ghost, who loves her.

The house feels different now—the "Aesthetic" has taken a firm hold. As Cherie moves through the kitchen, she is a vision of suburban perfection in a silk wrap that flows around her legs with every step, the fabric catching the morning light.

She hands Chad his coffee—hazelnut, just like the dream—and gives him a long, soft hug that leaves him smiling and unsuspecting before she slips out the door for her jog.