I nervously followed Frasier into the house. We hadn't said more than six words to each other since climbing into the car after leaving Cheers. At the time I was just happy and relieved that he'd taken me back. I'd honestly expected him to turn his back and never speak me. It was no more than I deserved, after what I'd done to him. But then he had taken me back. He'd hugged me and said "Welcome home, Lilith."

But silence had descended once we were in the car, with the only sound being the quiet hum of the heater and the steady beat of the windshield wipers against the rain. I huddled in my seat, wishing we could skip this awkward silence and go back to how things had been before. The thought was so absurd that I wanted to laugh. There was no going back. Possibly no going forward either.

"I'll just be a moment." Frasier's tone is apologetic. "I have to go change the sheets on the bed for you."

For me? As in I would be sleeping in the bed, and he would be sleeping elsewhere? Or was I getting paranoid and reading too much into everything and nothing? "Oh, okay." Which sounded dumb, but what else was there to say?

He returned, holding a pillow to his chest, a nervous grin twitching across his face. "You must be tired, I'm sure. I'll get out of your way and let you go to bed."

I was tired but not enough that my heart didn't sink when I heard his words. "Get out of my way?"

"I thought I'd sleep in my study tonight," he explained. "We can talk in the morning."

"No." I didn't realize I'd said it out loud until I saw the look of surprise on his face. I hadn't meant to do that, but I couldn't go sleep in that bed alone. Not after waiting so long to see Frasier, after coming so far and through so much to be here again. I looked at him pleadingly, but either he didn't see or he didn't care.

"Lilith, I can't do this right now," he told me. "We'll talk tomorrow."

"I've missed you so much," I whispered, feeling the tears sting my eyes. "Can't you just sit with me for awhile?"

He shook his head. "I'm sorry, Lilith. Not tonight."

I watched him walk into his study and close the door, quietly and politely shutting me out of his life. In a daze, I walked back into our bedroom, now my bedroom. My clothes were still in the drawers, and hanging in the closet, as if I'd never left. Standing here, it was so easy to believe that I'd never left, that my husband was going to walk though that door any minute and kiss me in that way he had that always made my heart stop.

I couldn't keep doing this. I couldn't stand it anymore. All that had kept me going on the past six months was the thought of Frasier, and how I'd make it up to him a thousand times over. It never occurred to me that he might not want to make it up to him, that he might not want me back.

I climbed into bed and pulled the covers over my head. Sleep was a long time coming.