The Architect Who Lost His Muse

Summary

In the sixth year of Oliver's rise to principal architect, I packed up my own drafting table, resigned from my firm, and quietly stepped into the role of his stay-at-home wife.

During his most brutal stretches, I lived by his blueprint schedules. I delivered warm meals directly to his office every single day, just to ensure he didn't forget to eat.

I asked him once—only once. "Could you take me to see the glass pavilion? The one with the stargazing dome you designed? Just this once."