But a few weeks in, something shifted.
Her replies became slower. Shorter. Sometimes nonexistent. When I asked if she was okay, she’d say, “Yeah. Just tired.” When I suggested we get coffee or take a walk like we used to, she said she wasn’t up for company.
I told myself not to overthink it.
Then three days passed with no response at all.
That’s when the knot in my stomach formed—the kind that doesn’t listen to logic. I drove to the house without telling her. I told myself I was just dropping off groceries. That I was being helpful. That I wasn’t panicking.
When I pulled up, the first thing I noticed was the door.
The lock looked different.
New.
My heart started pounding so loudly I could hear it in my ears. I knocked. Once. Twice. Nothing. I tried my key.
It didn’t fit.
My thoughts spiraled instantly. Had someone broken in? Had she left without telling me? Had something happened inside that house while I was busy convincing myself to give her space?
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