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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.
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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