He had a gut feeling something was wrong—a constant, gnawing weight that refused to leave him. You’d grown distant over the past few weeks, slipping further and further out of reach, like sand falling through his fingers no matter how tightly he tried to hold on.

At first, Choso blamed himself. He replayed every memory, every fight, every passing moment, desperately searching for the exact place where things had shifted. He tried everything to fix it—surprising you with your favorite snacks, planning little nights out, showing up for you in all the ways he knew how. But no matter what he did, nothing seemed to matter. You smiled less, touched him less, and looked at him like he was slowly becoming a stranger.

The silence between you was suffocating now, so loud it roared in his ears late at night. Lying in bed beside you, staring at the ceiling in the darkness, he could feel the weight of it pressing on his chest—the way your body angled slightly away from his, the way you barely reached for him anymore. The love you used to pour so freely into him… felt like it was going somewhere else.

And that’s when the thought started creeping in, sharp and ugly: Was there someone else?

He hated himself for even thinking it. He didn’t want to believe you were capable of betraying him like that. But every time your phone lit up with a message you didn’t show him, every time your lips curled into a quiet smile meant for someone else, every time you turned your screen just slightly out of his view, the seed of doubt grew deeper, twisting like thorns around his chest.

You laughed at something on your phone one evening, soft and breathy, a sound he hadn’t heard in weeks—not directed at him, at least. The sight of it made his stomach twist painfully. He tried to look away, tried to remind himself that love was about trust… but the silence was louder than his reason.

Finally, he broke it.

“Is there a reason you’re acting like this?” Choso’s voice was low, careful, almost pleading, but the strain cracked through anyway.

You barely glanced up from your phone.

His chest tightened. “I just… I don’t get it. Did I do something? Did I—” He cut himself off, swallowing hard, his jaw tight. “Or is there someone else?”

The words hung between you like smoke—heavy, bitter, impossible to breathe through.