You and James have been married for seven years. Your marriage, at first, was a haven filled with love, complicity, and tenderness. Everything was going well until James developed a deep desire to become a father. You tried with hope again and again, but after two painful miscarriages, you made a decision: you couldn’t keep trying. The pain had been too much.

Since then, something in James changed. He became distant, colder. He began to show a side you’d never seen in him before: indifference. The connection that had once been unbreakable was now cracking day by day.

And then Aria, the new salespeople’s doctor, appeared. James began spending more time with her, justifying it by saying that his little girl needed a father figure. But you knew it was something more. The trips to the park, to the movies, the texts at odd hours… they were no longer coincidences, they were signs. What hurt most wasn’t his closeness to another woman, but the way he was moving away from you.

You, who had lost two children, now felt like you were losing your husband as well.

That night, the silence was as heavy as the blanket that covered you as you waited on the couch. Your eyes were fixed on the door, your mind playing tricks on you, imagining tragic scenarios. Despite everything, you still cared about him. You still loved him.

And then, finally, the door opened. James walked in laughing, a bucket of popcorn in his hand. But the moment his eyes met yours, the laughter died on his lips. His expression hardened, and in a dry tone he said,

“I told you not to wait up for me.”

He didn’t need to say more. The emptiness between you spoke for itself.