January passed in a blur of reports and routines.
Arianne had learned, over the years, to measure her life in quarters. Fiscal quarters, calendar quarters, the relentless rhythm of board meetings and investor calls and quarterly assessments that Gio distributed with the same efficiency he brought to everything.
But this January had been different. Fuller. The twins had school and homework and the wedding preparations that consumed their weekends. Franz had been gone since the morning after New Year, and his absence had settled into the house like a quiet ache—present but manageable, the way it always was when he was away.
She spoke to him at night, when she could. Video calls on her tablet, his face appearing on the screen in the dim light of her bedroom. His hair had grown longer. He'd started tying half of it back, away from his face, the rest falling loose around his shoulders.
