It's been a week now since Lana gave birth, and every day, I keep expecting to see some sign, some indication that she's making plans to move out. But instead, I wake up each morning and find her here—still occupying the guest room, still part of every routine, every dinner, every shared moment that should be ours.
It's like the walls of this house are closing in on me, and every corner I turn, there she is. I didn't sign up for this. I thought her staying here would be temporary, something brief to support her until she was back on her feet. But now it's starting to feel like she's settling in, and I can't ignore it any longer. I need my space back. I need space with my man.
