Under the Grit

Fade Into You

Evangeline unlocked the front door of the house, stepping inside and closing it behind her with a soft click. The familiar scent of the place—the woodsy, earthy aroma of Ben's cologne lingering in the air—hit her instantly, making her stomach twist. It used to feel like home, like a refuge, but now every corner of the house seemed haunted by the weight of her suspicions.

She set her newly repaired phone on the kitchen counter, the smooth surface a reminder of last night's outburst. Her fingers grazed over it, and she sighed, feeling more exhausted than before. She had gotten the screen fixed, but nothing else in her life felt repairable. Her reflection stared back at her from the phone's unblemished glass—a tired, hollow version of herself.

Walking into the living room, she glanced around, her eyes landing on the couch where she used to curl up with Ben, watching movies, laughing. The weight of the house's silence pressed in on her.

Forcing herself to move, she grabbed her laptop from the side table, bringing it to the couch with a deep breath. I need to work. I need to focus. Her project was waiting, looming over her like an unfinished promise, but today, she could hardly muster the energy to care.

She flipped open the laptop and stared at the screen. The brightness stung her eyes, but she ignored it, scrolling through the mess of notes and interviews she had compiled. A surge of anxiety tightened her chest as she realized how much more she still had to do. But it felt impossible to focus with Ben's voice still echoing in her mind, the memory of his recent apology clinging to her thoughts like static.

Her phone buzzed from the kitchen counter, pulling her attention away from the laptop. Evangeline's heart gave a jolt. For a split second, she felt the hope rise—the irrational, desperate hope that maybe it wasn't as bad as it seemed.

She rose from her spot on the couch, her fingers hesitated as she reached for the phone, her breath catching when she saw the name on the screen: Ben.

She swallowed the lump forming in her throat and forced a smile, even though no one was around to see it. She let out a breath and answered, her voice bright and artificially sweet. "Hey, baby!"

On the other end, Ben's voice came through cheerful, light, as though everything was perfectly fine. "Hey, sweetheart! How's everything going? I miss hearing your voice."

Evangeline's stomach twisted at how easily he could sound so carefree, how natural it felt for him to act like nothing was wrong. She tried to match his energy, though every word felt like dragging nails across her own skin. "I miss you too," she replied, her voice unnervingly steady. "How's the trip? You sound good."

Ben chuckled softly. "It's been a long week, but yeah, everything's good. Just got back to the hotel, actually. Wish you were here with me to see the sunset. The view is gorgeous. I'll send you a picture in a sec."

Her grip tightened on the phone. Another picture. Great, she thought, keeping her voice light. "I bet it's beautiful. I'd love to see it."

She felt sick, her heart pounding in her chest as Ben continued to talk about his trip, the meetings, the people he had been with. Evangeline could barely register his words, too caught up in the sound of his happiness. How could he act like this, knowing what he had done—what he was still doing?

Evangeline swallowed hard, forcing herself to keep up the cheerful façade even as her stomach churned. She'd already seen the picture—the one that had confirmed her worst fears—and now, with Ben's voice so light and easy, it was like salt in a still-open wound.

"How's the project going, by the way?" Ben's voice broke through her thoughts, sounding so casual, so normal. "You've been working hard, I bet."

Her throat tightened, her fake smile faltering. How could he ask her that like nothing had happened? How could he carry on like everything was fine, like there wasn't a shadow lurking in the background of his life, of theirs?