Chapter 4

Saturday evening. The kids were spending the night at Jeff’s parents’ place, giving the house an unusual quiet. Katie stood in her bedroom, checking the time on her phone. 8:00 PM exactly. Three weeks into the nightly Mirror Window practice, and the ritual had started to feel almost normal — a strange kind of anchor in her chaotic days. She set her phone to audio record, as Carolyn had instructed in their last session, then placed it on the dresser where it could capture everything without being in the way.

She undressed slowly, the way she had learned to do. Blouse first, then bra, jeans, panties. The full-length mirror she had bought stood ready against the wall, reflecting her frame back at her. Red hair loose around her shoulders, breasts slightly sagging, the softer belly and hips she still fought to keep in check. She stood naked in front of it, the cool air of the bedroom on her skin, and began.

“I’m here,” she said quietly, her voice already thick. “Looking at myself again. The body that carried three kids. The one that still feels ... changed.”

Her hands moved over her skin as she spoke, the way Carolyn had guided her in the office — not to arouse, but to stay present. She traced her collarbone, her breasts, the curve of her waist. “These still feel like one of the better parts. They nursed the babies. They’re sensitive. Sometimes I catch Jeff looking at them and it makes me feel wanted. Other times I just feel tired of being needed by everyone.”

In the adjacent walk-in closet, Jeff stood hidden in the shadows, the door cracked just enough to see. He had told Katie he was going for a night-time walk to get some fresh air. Instead he had slipped into his closet through the office door, heart pounding. Three weeks of small improvements in counseling — a few better conversations, a little less tension — had given him a flicker of hope. But Katie was still rationing sex, still pulling away, still holding herself back even though his desire for her remained strong. Tonight, with the kids gone, the frustration had built until he couldn’t ignore it. He watched her through the crack, one hand already moving slowly inside his pants.