Chapter 2 – Love Turns Quiet

That night, after our wedding, I sat next to Ethan and held his hand. I felt safe. I felt chosen. I believed this was my forever.

The first few months of our marriage felt soft and easy. I woke up early every morning. I made breakfast for Ethan before he left for work. Eggs, toast, and black coffee. Sometimes I added a small note beside his plate. “Have a good day.” He used to smile when he saw it. He kissed my forehead before leaving. Those moments felt simple, but they meant everything to me.

I took care of the apartment during the day. I cleaned, cooked, and arranged small things to make the place feel warm. I bought cheap flowers and placed them near the window. In the evening, I waited for Ethan. When he came home, we ate dinner together. We talked about small things. His work. My bakery. A funny customer. A new recipe. It was not a big life, but it was a happy one.

On weekends, we stayed in. We watched movies. Once, we tried to build a small table together, but it broke, and we laughed for a long time. I remember thinking, “This is what love looks like.” But slowly, things began to change.

At first, it was small. Ethan started coming home a little late. He said work was busy. I understood. I did not complain. I told myself this was normal. People work hard. Life gets busy.

Then the late nights became more common. He left early in the morning and came home when it was already dark. Some nights, I waited on the sofa until I fell asleep. I woke up later and found him in bed, already turned away from me.

He started using his phone more. He kept it face down on the table. One evening, I picked it up by mistake, and he quickly took it from my hand. He said, “It’s just work stuff.” His voice sounded a little sharp. I felt strange, but I said nothing.

I tried to stay normal. I made his favorite meals. I wore the red dress he once said he liked. I tried to talk more when he came home. But something was different. He did not look at me the same way anymore.

One night, I made pasta and lit a small candle on the table. I wanted it to feel special. Ethan came home very late. It was almost midnight. The food was cold. I asked, “Did you eat already?” He said yes, without even looking at me. I smiled and said, “It’s okay,” but inside, something hurt. A few days later, it was my birthday.

I woke up early, hoping he would say something first. But he just got ready and left for work. No wish. No hug. Nothing. I told myself he was busy. Maybe he planned something for the evening.

That night, he came home tired. He looked at me for a moment and said, “Oh… happy birthday.” Then he gave me a gift card. No smile. No warmth. Just a quick moment, like it did not matter. I said thank you. Later, I went into the kitchen and cried quietly. I started noticing more things.

His shirts sometimes had a light perfume smell. It was not mine. When I asked, he said it was from the office. He sounded annoyed. I felt embarrassed for asking.

One afternoon, I saw a message on his phone when it lit up on the table. I was not trying to look, but I saw it.

“I miss today already.”My heart stopped.The name was saved as “M. Office.”When Ethan came back into the room, I asked him, “Who is that?” My voice was shaking. He looked at me for a second, then frowned.“It’s nothing. Just a coworker,” he said.

“But why would she say she misses you?” I asked.He sighed loudly. “Grace, you are thinking too much. You always do this.”His words made me feel small. Like I was wrong. Like I was the problem. I said sorry, even though I was not sure why.

After that, I tried not to ask questions. I tried to be quiet. I told myself that trust is important in marriage. I did not want to be the kind of wife who doubts everything.But inside, I felt something breaking.

We still lived in the same house. We still ate at the same table. We still slept in the same bed. But it felt different now.

When I talked, he only nodded. Sometimes he did not even hear me. When I tried to hold his hand, he gently pulled away and said, “I’m tired.”

I started talking less. I started keeping my thoughts to myself. I sat by the window in the evenings and watched people outside. They laughed, walked together, held hands. I wondered when we had stopped doing that.

One day, while cleaning, I found a small receipt in his pocket. It was from a café. Two coffees. Two desserts. The date was the same day he told me he had a long meeting.

I held the paper in my hand for a long time. My fingers felt cold. I did not cry. I just folded it and kept it in my drawer.

That night, when Ethan came home, I looked at him carefully. He looked normal. Calm. Like nothing had changed.But everything had.

I realized something slowly, like a quiet truth I could not escape.I was still his wife.But I was no longer his world.