My name is Claire, and for most of my adult life, I believed I had built something solid. Not perfect. Not extraordinary. But real. Marcus and I had been married for thirteen years. We had a home that felt lived in, not staged. Two children who filled it with noise and chaos and meaning. A routine that, from the outside, looked like stability—school runs, packed lunches, weekend errands, bedtime stories. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was ours, and I trusted it. For a long time, that was enough. Marcus worked long hours as a project manager, and I worked part-time…
My name is Claire, and for most of my adult life, I believed I had built something solid.
Not perfect. Not extraordinary. But real.