Chapter Text
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January 2023
Andrea: Love, what time will you be home tonight?
Andrea smiled faintly as she sent the message, balancing her phone in one hand while helping Caroline untangle a blanket from Cassidy’s feet.
Her phone buzzed almost immediately.
Miranda: I’ll be home late, darling. There are revisions that need to be finished before tomorrow.
Andrea’s smile faltered. She stared at the words for a moment before replying.
Andrea: Oh… okay.
She glanced down at the screen, letting out a quiet sigh before locking her phone. In the living room, eight-year-old Caroline and Cassidy argued over whether superheroes or princesses should win movie night. Andrea looked toward them, then unlocked her phone once more.
Andrea: They were asking if we’re still having movie night tonight. I told them we’d wait for you.
Another reply came.
Miranda: I’m sorry. Tell Caroline and Cassidy not to wait up. I’ll come home as soon as I can.
Andrea swallowed the disappointment gathering in her throat.
Andrea: Okay. Take care.
Her thumb hovered over the keyboard.
Then—
Andrea: I love you.
The message showed as read.
Nothing came back.
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Movie night became movie nights without Miranda.
At first it was easy to explain.
“Mommy’s working.”
Then—
“Mommy had another meeting.”
Then—
“Mommy’s almost home.”
Until eventually Andrea stopped making excuses. The twins stopped asking. The untouched dinner plates became routine. The side of the bed beside
Andrea remained cold long after midnight.
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3 weeks.
Three weeks since Miranda had been home before dinner. Three weeks of unread messages. Three weeks of waking up beside someone who always seemed halfway out the door.
Andrea told herself this was temporary. Runway was demanding. The board was demanding. Miranda had survived impossible workloads before. They would survive this too.
They always had.
Until one Thursday evening.
Andrea had just left a location shoot downtown when traffic crawled to a stop outside one of Manhattan’s quieter restaurants.
She wasn’t looking. Not really.
Then she saw Miranda.
Laughing.
Not the polite smile she wore at galas. Not the restrained expression reserved for interviews.
Laughing.
Across from another woman.
The woman reached across the table.
Miranda didn’t pull away.
Andrea stared until the traffic behind her erupted into impatient horns. She drove home on autopilot.
That night, she texted.
Andrea: Saw you at Bellucci’s.
Three dots appeared.
Disappeared.
Appeared again.
Miranda: Board member dinner.
Andrea stared at the reply.
Her fingers moved before she could stop them.
Andrea: You looked happy.
Several minutes passed.
Miranda: We closed a deal.
Andrea typed another message.
Andrea typed another message. Deleted it. Then another. Deleted that too.
She settled for—
“Good night.”
Miranda never answered.
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Another week passed. Then another, until one evening, the silence became unbearable.
Miranda arrived home just after eleven. She hadn’t even taken off her coat before Andrea spoke.
“Three weeks, Miranda.”
Miranda sighed quietly. “Andrea—”
“No.” Andrea shook her head. “For three weeks I haven’t seen my wife before dinner.”
Miranda remained still.
“Cassidy asked me if we’re okay.”
Silence.
“Caroline asked if I’m leaving you.”
Miranda finally looked up.
“And is this because I asked about that dinner?” Andrea continued. “Because I already apologized for questioning you. I don’t even know what’s happening to us anymore.”
Miranda pinched the bridge of her nose. “I am a busy woman, Andrea.”
The words landed like ice.
“I have meetings. Responsibilities. A position people would do anything to take from me.”
Andrea laughed. It wasn’t amused. It was exhausted.
“Is that really the best lie you can come up with?”
Miranda’s jaw tightened. “Excuse me?”
“How many times am I supposed to hear that?” Andrea’s voice cracked. “How many apologies am I supposed to forgive? How many dinners do I eat alone? How many nights do I put our daughters to bed by myself?”
She stepped closer. “How many times do I have to wait just to be acknowledged by my own wife?”
Another step.
“Do I need to call Emily and schedule an appointment just to see you?”
“Andrea.”
“No.” Andrea’s eyes glistened. “You don’t get to stop this conversation.”
“I’m tired.” Miranda closed her eyes.
“Can we talk about this another time?”
Andrea stared at her in disbelief.
“Another time?” She laughed again. “What does that mean? Another three weeks? A month? Two?”
“Or when you’ve already found someone else who’s easier to love?”
“Someone who never questions you. Someone who says yes to everything. Someone who obeys every command like a goddamn machine.”
“I bent for you, Miranda.”
Her voice broke.
“I compromised. I changed. I learned your world. I married you.”
Andrea pressed a trembling hand against her own chest.
“And somehow… it doesn’t even feel like I’m married anymore.”
“It feels like I’m married to your calendar.”
She searched Miranda’s face desperately.
“Do you even feel like you belong to this marriage anymore?”
Miranda looked away.
The silence answered louder than words ever could.
Andrea inhaled shakily. “Is it because I couldn’t give you another child?”
Miranda’s head snapped back. “Andrea—”
“Is that it? Because after the twins…” She laughed through tears. “My body couldn’t do it again.”
Her voice became barely audible.
“Or is it because I’m still that smart fat girl who somehow convinced herself she’d be enough for Miranda Priestly?”
“Stop.” Miranda’s voice rose sharply. “Andrea, stop.”
“What do you want me to say? I’ve already told you why I’ve been busy. Why can’t you just accept it?”
Andrea stared at her.
Then smiled. A broken, hollow smile.
“Accept it?”
She nodded slowly.
“That’s bullshit, Miranda.”
“I’m busy too. I’ve spent the last ten days flying from one location to another. I’ve worked sixteen-hour days. I’ve answered calls in airport bathrooms. I’ve edited articles in hotel lobbies.”
“But somehow…” Her voice softened. “I still came home. I still made time. For Caroline. For Cassidy. For you.”
She looked directly into Miranda’s eyes.
“So tell me. How am I supposed to accept an excuse that I prove wrong every single day?”
The room was painfully quiet.
Andrea felt tears spill freely now.
“I have never…” Her voice failed. She tried again. “I have never felt so alone.”
Miranda didn’t speak.
Andrea laughed bitterly.
“You promised me we’d build a home. A place where, no matter how hard the world became… we would always come back to each other.”
She looked around the house they’d built together—the family photos, the toys on the floor, the wedding picture hanging over the fireplace.
“It has everything. The house. The family. The life.”
“And somehow…” She looked back at Miranda. “…I’ve never felt more homeless.”
Miranda opened her mouth, but no words came.
For the first time in their marriage, love wasn’t enough to fill the silence. And Andrea realized something that terrified her more than any affair ever could.
She was beginning to grieve someone who was still standing right in front of her.
“You know what hurts the most?” Andrea asked.
“Tell me,” Miranda said.
“It was never the fights. It wasn’t even the silence.
“It was that every time I thought we were finally okay… you would say something, do something, and suddenly I’d realize I had been standing on a cliff the whole time. You always knew how to catch me off guard.”
“That was never my intention,” Miranda said.
“I know. That’s what makes it worse. Because I kept telling myself to be stronger, to stop hoping… and then you’d look at me the way you used to, and I’d forget every promise I made to myself.”
“I love you,” Miranda said.
“I know.”
“That’s the tragedy. When everything else in my life fell apart, you were still the person I wanted to run to. Even after you became the reason it was falling apart.”
“Andrea—”
“You knew me better than anyone.”
“You knew every dream I’d ever whispered at three in the morning. Every fear. Every insecurity.”
“You weren’t just part of those dreams…”
“You were the dream.”
“And somehow I still ruined it,” Miranda said.
“No.” Andrea shook her head. “We ruined it. But loving you started to feel like surviving on broken glass. Every breath hurt. Every day I stayed, I lost another piece of myself.”
“I gave you everything I knew how to give,” Miranda said.
“Maybe you did. But do you know what it felt like from where I was standing? Every time you gave me your love… you took something in return. My certainty. My confidence. My peace. Until one day I looked in the mirror and realized I couldn’t remember who I had been before I loved you.”
“…I’m sorry,” Miranda said.
“I know.” Andrea gave her a broken smile. “I just wish your love hadn’t cost me so much.”