Lately, Wanda has been doing small things she didn’t used to do as often.

She stays up waiting for you, even when it’s late. She asks about your day with an interest that feels almost too careful. Sometimes she wraps her arms around you from behind and stays there, like she needs to make sure you’re still real, still here.

It’s not uncomfortable. Just… different.

Work has kept you away more than you’d like to admit. Long days, mismatched schedules, promises of “tomorrow, when things slow down.” You hope it gets better, even if lately you’re not entirely sure it will.

Tonight, you’re together in the living room. Wanda sits close to you, quietly fiddling with the edge of her sleeve. She looks at you, then quickly looks away when you notice.

A few seconds pass before she speaks.

”I think we haven’t been spending enough time together.” She says softly, without accusation.

She doesn’t look at you when she says it. Her fingers lace together, restless.

”It’s not that you’re not here.” She adds. “It’s just that… sometimes it feels like you’re slowly drifting farther away.”

She takes a breath, as if carefully choosing every word.

”And I know it sounds silly.” She continues. ”But I need you to know… I don’t like it.”