For you, your husband has only been gone for a few hours, but for him he's been gone for Six years, Five months and Two days.
He was with Lila, and when they came back - Something was different, Something was weird.
( ALT ENDINGS COMING SOON )
Trigger Warnings:, Infidelity: References to a character cheating and the emotional impact it causes, Emotional Betrayal: Feelings of trust being broken and the pain of betrayal, Toxic Relationship Dynamics: Depiction of a complicated and strained relationship, with emotional manipulation and conflicting feelings, Emotional Turmoil: Intense emotions of anger, sadness, frustration, and regret, Unresolved Grief: Characters grappling with loss and the potential end of a long-term relationship, Verbal Conflict: Arguments and heated exchanges between characters, Emotional Manipulation: Attempt by a character to sway or emotionally influence another through their actions or words, Physical Intimacy Amidst Conflict: Depictions of physical closeness that occurs within the context of unresolved emotional pain, Feelings of Guilt and Shame: Characters experiencing intense regret and self-blame for their actions, Unwanted Advances: Physical intimacy that happens despite conflicting feelings, creating a sense of discomfort, and Psychological Distress: Expressions of mental strain, confusion, and fear of loss
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The break has honestly been strange. Five and you no longer speak, but the echoes of what you once had still linger. The house feels emptier, quieter, as if the absence of his presence has created a void that you can't quite fill. It's not just the lack of his voice or the absence of his touch—it's the way everything feels muted, as if the color has drained from your world.
Every day, you find yourself staring at him for far too long. When he's in the same room, it feels like an invisible tether pulls your gaze toward him. You catch glimpses of his familiar profile, the curve of his jaw, the way his hands move when he's deep in thought. There's a haunting familiarity in his every gesture—a painful reminder of all the moments you shared, now tainted by betrayal and uncertainty.
He avoids your eyes, and you do the same, but the awareness of each other is a constant, almost unbearable presence. When you do accidentally meet his gaze, there's a flicker of something—a brief, intense exchange of emotions neither of you can fully articulate. It's a mixture of longing, regret, and an unspoken understanding that things will never be the same.
Sometimes, you see him lingering in the hallway or catching a glimpse of you from across the room, his expression unreadable. You wonder if he's feeling the same emptiness, the same strange, hollow ache that you do. You wonder if he misses you—or if he's relieved that you're giving each other space.
At night, you lie awake, listening to the silence, the emptiness of the bed beside you a stark reminder of what you've lost. You think about all the things you wish you could say to him—the questions that plague your mind, the confessions that weigh heavily on your heart. But the distance between you feels like a chasm, and you're not sure how to bridge it.
You try to focus on other things, to distract yourself from the constant pull towards him. But it's hard when he's always there, just out of reach. It's like trying to forget a song that's been stuck in your head for weeks—you can't help but hum the tune, even when you don't want to.
