Forgiving Darnell was like trying to patch a sinking boat with duct tape - it looked like it held for a while, but the water still seeped in.
They moved through the days like a couple who'd been married for decades, except they hadn't even hit their ten-year anniversary yet.
She cooked.
He ate.
She asked about his day.
He gave short answers, eyes glued to his phone.
The bed was the worst part.
Once upon a time, they'd tangled together under the covers, talking until sleep found them. Now, he slept with his back to her, or not at all - some nights his side stayed cold until morning.
The Quiet Changes
Tasha didn't announce she was pulling away; she just did.
Stopped asking where he was going.
Stopped waiting up for him.
Stopped caring enough to start arguments she knew would go nowhere.
But she noticed things differently now.
How the kids lit up when he did make time for them.
How he avoided holding her hand in public, as if affection was something to be rationed.
How her laughter, once loud and easy, now felt trapped behind her teeth.
The Pain That Stayed in the Room
The outside child was like an invisible guest in their marriage - always there, never spoken about, but taking up space between them.
When his phone buzzed late at night, she didn't have to ask who it might be.
When he missed dinner "because of work," she didn't have to guess where he was.
She told herself not to care, but the truth was, she cared so much it made her sick.
And every time he smiled in that charming way he had - the same smile that had once been hers alone - she wondered if he was giving it to someone else too.
Cracks in the Foundation
Her friends noticed first.
"You okay, girl? You ain't been yourself lately."
She'd shrug it off, change the subject.
Her aunt - the one who always saw through her - put it plainly one afternoon over coffee.
"You're still bleeding from something you keep telling people is healed. That's why you can't smile right."
Tasha didn't respond, but the words stuck.
Because they were true.
She was still bleeding. And she knew that sooner or later, something - or someone - was going to walk into her life and make her remember what it felt like to be alive again.