I Spent Nearly Two Weeks Recovering From Surgery and My Husband Never Visited Once—Then I Came Home and Froze at the Front Door

I called it:

“evidence of a crime committed in 1987.”

Now the entryway was painted soft yellow.

Not random yellow.

My yellow.

Years earlier, I had torn a page from a home-design magazine and pointed at a pale buttery wall.

“This makes a room look like morning.”

Gavin had laughed.