No Longer Mrs. Cooley: The Architect's Return

Haleigh didn't go to the shower immediately. Instead, she moved to her vanity table, situated directly across from the closet door.

She sat down and began to slowly, methodically remove her jewelry.

Clink. Her watch hit the glass surface.

Clatter. Her earrings followed.

Gray was still standing guard by the closet, shifting his weight from foot to foot. He looked like a statue threatening to crumble.

"Aren't you going to sleep in the guest room?" Haleigh asked, watching him in the mirror. She picked up a cotton pad and began to wipe off her lipstick. "You know I snore when I'm jet-lagged. I need the bed to myself."

"I... I missed you," Gray stammered. "I want to be near you."

He couldn't leave. If he left, Brylee would try to escape, and Haleigh might see her. He was trapped.

Haleigh shrugged. "Suit yourself."

She stood up and walked over to the nightstand. The glass of milk was still there.

"Oh, milk!" she exclaimed. "I'm parched."

She picked up the glass.

"Wait!" Gray reached out. "That's... that's old. I poured it hours ago."

"It's fine," Haleigh said. She brought the glass to her lips and downed it in one long swallow. She wiped a white mustache from her upper lip. "Tastes rich. Whole milk? You usually drink skim."

"I... I'm trying to bulk up," Gray lied. His eyes were darting around the room like a cornered rat.

Haleigh stretched, her arms reaching toward the ceiling. "God, it is freezing in here. Why is the AC so low?"

She walked over to the wall-mounted thermostat.

"Haleigh, no, it's fine-"

She pressed the button. Beep. Beep. Beep.

The digital display climbed. 72... 80... 90... She stopped at a sweltering 98 degrees Fahrenheit.

"Doctor said I need to keep my temperature up," she lied smoothly. "Circulation issues."

The heat kicked on with a low rumble.

The walk-in closet was a sealed box, custom-built with cedar lining and extra insulation to protect her fur coats. No windows. No vents. With the bedroom heating up, it would become an oxygen-starved sauna within minutes.

Haleigh stripped off her clothes, changing into a silk nightgown right in front of Gray. She climbed into bed and grabbed the remote.

She turned on the TV. A loud action movie. Explosions and car chases filled the room.

"Gray," she said, patting the foot of the bed. "My feet are killing me. Rub them?"

Gray looked at the closet. He looked at the door. He looked at Haleigh. Defeated, he sat down and began to massage her feet. His hands were clammy.

Ten minutes passed. The room was getting stiflingly hot.

Thump.

A soft sound came from the closet. Like a body shifting against wood.

Haleigh sat bolt upright. "What was that?"

She grabbed a heavy brass lamp from the bedside table. "Is there someone in there? A burglar?"

She made a move to get out of bed.

Gray practically tackled her. "No! No! It was me! I kicked the bed frame!"

Haleigh looked at him, wide-eyed. "You are so clumsy tonight, Gray."

She pushed him away. "You know what? You're annoying me. You're fidgeting, you're sweating... go sleep in the guest room."

"But-"

"Out!" Haleigh pointed to the door. "I need sleep. Go."

Gray stood up. He looked at the closet door with desperate, apologetic eyes. He mouthed something that looked like Wait.

Then he walked out of the room.

The moment the door clicked shut, Haleigh was out of bed. She marched to the door and turned the lock. Click.

She went back to the bed and turned off the TV.

Silence descended. Heavy, hot silence.

The temperature in the room was suffocating. She could only imagine what it was like inside the closet amongst the wool and velvet.

Haleigh lay down in the dark. She stared at the closet door.

She heard a ragged inhale. Then a soft, muffled sob.

Brylee was crying. She was trapped, hot, terrified, and probably needing to pee, given her condition.

Haleigh adjusted her pillow. She felt a profound sense of peace.

"Goodnight, rat," she whispered into the darkness.

She put on her noise-canceling headphones and closed her eyes.