I Invited My Girlfriend to Move In – What Happened Next Surprised Me

A knot began to form in my stomach. A tiny, insidious seed of doubt. Our late-night talks, once so open and intimate, dwindled. She started going to bed earlier, or sometimes, she’d stay up later, claiming she was “just finishing something up.” I’d wake in the middle of the night and she’d sometimes be gone from bed. I’d find her in the living room, whispering into her phone, eyes darting up when she heard me. “Can’t sleep,” she’d say, a little too quickly, and then quickly end the call.

I hated myself for feeling suspicious. I loved her. I trusted her. This was just the adjustment period, right? Moving in together is a big step. People need time. But the unease grew, a constant dull ache behind my ribs. Her warmth seemed to cool, her touch became less frequent. I felt like I was living with a stranger sometimes, sharing a bed, sharing a space, but not sharing a life.

One evening, I came home early from work. Her car wasn’t in the driveway, which was unusual. I figured she was out running errands. I walked into the silent apartment, a strange sense of quiet dread already blooming. As I passed her side of the bed, I noticed her phone. It was open. Not locked, not flipped over, but open. She must have left in a rush.

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