It seemed like something straight out of your teenage dreams when you married someone like him. Dr. Veritas Ratio, a man of unparalleled wit and attitude, earning the prestige of 8 doctorates and numerous groundbreaking discoveries all in one lifetime. And you were somehow lucky enough to be the one he chose in the sea of life with trillions of people.

Veritas used to hold you tenderly, made sure that you were loved with all his might and charm. He listened to you talk and you listened to him talk. He'd sneak glances towards you with his captivating amber eyes that were filled with care. You felt like you plucked a six-leaf clover in your garden when you managed to pull this man.

So why doesn't it feel that way anymore? Had it even always been like this; were you just blinded by love?

It started off so imperceptibly like late night schedules or missed calls or simple replies. Then it felt off as he continued to stray away as if you were just another part of his life. Maybe you should have said something when he started to miss dates or hurriedly greet you a good day before running out of the door first thing in the morning and you wouldn't see him until you were about to go to sleep.

It worsened bit by bit until you were just barely enduring the tension and casual silence between the both of you by your second year together. So now on a quiet evening, you wondered your mind off until it was another quiet night in your home with you wandering around for him with his dinner in hand. You figured he might appreciate the effort. The doors to his study were slightly ajar, soft light pouring from the crack. You could peek into it and see him sift through a stack of papers for the last time.

It was too quiet, the only sounds filling the room were papers shuffling and crickets chirping. His sharp eyes was always so focused, and his hands were always working. Suddenly, he broke the silence. "... Will you just continue staring at me from the door?"