Later, when I passed the spare bedroom, I heard her laughing into a headset. I knew the laugh well enough to notice I had not heard it directed toward me in quite some time. Still, I told myself not to attach a story to a sound through a closed door.
I left for my forty-eight-hour tour early Monday morning. Jade was asleep when I went into the bedroom to kiss her goodbye, and I remember the faint glow of her phone on the nightstand. I pulled the blanket over her shoulder because the room was cold, collected my lunch from the refrigerator, and walked out with a quiet certainty that we would sort everything out after my shift. We had argued before and resolved it. People planning a marriage had to learn how to accommodate each other's ambitions. I thought the only immediate issue was whether we could agree on when to move.
At the station, ordinary work absorbed most of Monday. We checked the engine, inventoried tools, ran drills, and responded to a kitchen fire in a small restaurant where the staff had done exactly the right thing by evacuating before trying to retrieve anything. Later we assisted paramedics at a retirement complex, then returned to complete paperwork that always seemed to multiply while we were away. By the time I finally had a few minutes to check my phone, Jade had posted a workout clip with Remy. The caption said something about surrounding yourself with people who recognized your potential. I disliked how personal it sounded, but I was too tired to begin another conversation by text.
That evening I sent her a message asking whether she wanted to talk when I finished my tour. She replied with a heart emoji and a sentence about needing space to align her thoughts. I wrote back that I loved her and hoped we could work things out. She did not answer.
I remember putting the phone in my locker and deciding to focus on the work immediately in front of me. Whatever was happening at home could wait until I was able to give it proper attention. I did not understand that the decision had already been made without me.
Tuesday started with a vehicle accident on a highway interchange. Nobody died, and the injuries were manageable, but there were frightened children and a driver who could not stop shaking long after the danger was over. As an officer, I had to maintain a clear picture of the scene while people around me were frightened or angry. We returned to the station smelling of exhaust and damp pavement, and I helped complete the incident notes before sitting down in the break room. My coffee had cooled almost immediately. I picked up my phone expecting a routine message from Jade or perhaps another reminder about something she needed from the store.