But slowly, almost imperceptibly at first, he started noticing changes.
There were nights when Emma would go completely quiet and stare at nothing, her eyes unfocused and distant. She’d sit on the couch for an hour without moving, not watching TV, not reading, just existing in some space he couldn’t reach.
Mornings became unpredictable. She’d snap at him over something small, like him leaving a cup on the counter, then immediately apologize a dozen times with tears in her eyes.
The text messages started next.
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