It was late. The kind of late where the world feels still, and secrets feel safe. I was lying in bed, eyes closed, still stinging from our earlier fight. Then, in the quiet, I felt him shift closer. His breath was warm against my ear as he whispered something so raw, so honest, that it stole the air from my lungs.
I didn’t move. Didn’t let on that I’d heard. But inside, my heart was breaking.
The next day, I confronted him. He looked startled, then guilty. “I was just angry,” he said. “I didn’t mean it.” But the way he wouldn’t meet my eyes told me otherwise.
Now, I’m left wondering—how long has he felt this way? Was this a moment of frustration, or has he been hiding something deeper? I keep replaying our recent conversations, searching for clues. There have been times when he’s seemed distant, sure. But I always chalked it up to stress.
Now, I’m not so sure.
If this was just a one-time thing, maybe we can move past it. But if it’s part of a bigger pattern, then we have a problem. One that won’t be fixed by pretending it never happened.
