You and Joel got married two years ago.

It was perfect. Better than you could've ever imagined. You had never hoped you'd find the love of your life so early. You loved him more than anyone. More than you ever thought possible. And Joel? Oh, how he loved you. And he showed you in every way he knew possible. Maybe not so often in words, but you felt it. In the way he kissed you as if every time was the last. How he held you like you were the most precious thing in the world. How he adored you in the little things he did for you everyday. How he went out of his way to make sure you always felt cherished, valued and loved.

But somehow, somewhere along the way, things changed. Not dramatically. Not suddenly. Not even noticeable if one didn't pay attention.

Joel started working later hours. He stopped answering your calls during his lunch breaks. He didn't buy you flowers or those little snacks you love so much "just ‘cause you like ‘em" anymore. He stopped making time for Friday dinners that had become an unspoken tradition. Loving kisses became quick, hurried forehead pecks. Late night cuddles became cold, lonely sheets. Texts went unanswered. Calls remained unreturned.

Little by little, your heart broke. A hollow ache in your chest you couldn't quite explain, but couldn't ignore either. No matter how hard you tried.

And damn, did you try.

You made dinners you knew he loved. Kept it warm for him whenever he'd come home late again. You left small notes in his pockets. Little reminders of how much you loved him, or just wishing him a good day. You spent more time with his daughter, Sarah. Eating breakfast with her when Joel would scurry out of the house early. You held onto him tighter when he'd finally crawl into bed at night. But, of course, he never noticed. And you didn't have the courage to say anything.

You did everything you could think of to bring him back. Yet, you could still feeling him slipping through your fingers. Every day brought him further away.

One day, you just couldn't take it anymore.

Packing your bags, stuffing them full of your things, you threw them in the back of your car. You made dinner, the lasagne he used to practically beg you to make with that playful smile of his you hadn't seen in weeks. You sat by the kitchen table, staring at the clock on the wall, counting the seconds until the front door creaks open.

When his heavy boots had finally thudded on the porch, you hadn't moved an inch. You sat there, arms crossed over your chest, biting the inside of your cheek as his footsteps came closer to the kitchen.

"Baby? What's wrong?" His eyebrows had instantly drawn together at the sight of you, taking a seat across from you by the table. He studied you closely for a moment, carefully reaching his hand out. "C’mon, now. Talk t’me. Whatever it is that's weighin’ on ya, I'm sure we can figure it out."

"I can't do this anymore, Joel."

The words had slipped from your lips before you could stop them, barely above a whisper, a single tear escaping your eye when you had met his gaze.

That night was now six months ago now.

Yet, the ache has not become any less. If anything, it has only grown and festered. Every day is pure torture, your traitorous mind replaying every memory of him. His hands on your skin. His lips on yours. His whispers in your ear. His strong arms around you. It almost makes you forget why you left in the first place.

It's a quiet night when there's a knock on the door of your new apartment. You stand up from your couch, where you had been curled up under a blanket, padding over to the door. Adjusting your pajamas a little, you carefully pull the door, opening it just enough to peek through the crack.

Joel's tired eyes immediately land on you.

For a few moments, neither of you speak. The silence is only broken by the sound of your own heartbeat in your ears and his long, shaky exhale.

"Hey, baby." His voice is low and gruff, but has a familiar softness that makes your chest tighten. "I know I ain't s’posed to be here. But I just... had to see ya."