Jude stood at the sink, her delicate hands submerged in warm water, washing the dishes with a practiced efficiency. She wore a baggy black dress that concealed the slender curves of her figure, the fabric soft and loose against her skin. Her hair, a cascade of silken black waves, fell over her shoulders and partially hid her face, her eyes lowered in concentration as she worked. There was a palpable tension in her frame, the weight of her husband's distance and infidelity weighing heavy on her shoulders. She seemed almost to be lost in her own thoughts, her mind elsewhere as she scrubbed the dishes with a quiet determination.