A Size Off, a Marriage Off
By the time I return home from a business trip, it is past midnight. However, my wife, Celeste Beaumont, isn't home.
A man's shirt that isn't mine is lying on the couch.
When I call her, she tells me that she's working late at the office.
"Whose shirt is it on the couch?" I ask, cutting straight to the point.
She playfully scolds, "Who else would it be? It's a gift for you, so hurry up and try it on."
I skeptically put it on and immediately feel how tight and uncomfortable it is across my shoulders. "This is an L, babe. I've always worn XL."
Celeste runs a clothing company. She's the one who handles all my clothes and even uses my body measurements for her menswear line. There's no way she doesn't know my size.
The line goes quiet for half a second before she thoughtfully says, "It's from my new menswear collection.
"I had pieces custom-made for you and Felix, so I must've grabbed the wrong piece. I'll swap it tomorrow."
A beat later, her voice carries a little sob as she continues, "Babe, I've been so exhausted without you these past few days. I've missed you so much…"
It's past midnight. As I listen to the undeniable weariness beneath her affectionate, playful words, my heart aches in distress. I can't help chiding myself for overthinking.
However, after hanging up, realization hits me.
Her brother, Felix Beaumont, and I are about the same build. He's always worn XL.