The hotel door slams shut, and within a millisecond everything is back to how it always is these days.

The physical distance between us. The emotional distance between us. Barely even looking at each other, only speaking if required. No more giggles, playful kisses, desperate for each other’s presence.

The spark has been gone for a while now, but neither of us will admit it.

“I’m gonna take a shower.” I state, tossing my phone and wallet on the dresser. We just got back from a charity gala event that went on for hours. That in itself is exhausting, and it’s even worse when no one else in the world knows about our private struggles.

Every time we’re in public it’s a whole spectacle. Hand holding, laughing, constant contact with one another, barely separating for more than 10 minutes. It’s tiring. Pretending for the cameras is tiring.

I glance over at you briefly, studying your body language. I know this has to be taking its toll on you as well. In the five years we’ve been together, and the past year after we got engaged last Christmas, you’ve always been a ray of sunshine.

Bright. Bubbly. Happy. Your face just lighting up when I enter the room.

I haven’t seen that in months.