Another week in, and Jason started showering in the guest bathroom. His razors, his cologne… everything he needed, including his shampoo and conditioner, were gone from ours. It wasn’t just temporary. He wasn’t just sleeping in there. He was living in there.
And why? I tried to rationalize it. I told myself we were just in a phase. That marriages shift, stretch, and bend sometimes. That maybe my husband really was just that tired. But deep down, something gnawed at me. Quiet. Constant.
Then came the night everything changed. It was around 2:30 A.M. I woke up disoriented, the kind of half-dreamed panic that comes when the silence feels wrong. I reached out instinctively, hand brushing cold sheets.
“Get a grip, Maya,” I muttered to myself. “Whatever is going on in your head, fix it.”
I sat up, blinking in the dark at the same moment Jason’s phone lit up. That was odd, his phone still being plugged into the charger on our nightstand. He never left his phone behind. Not anymore.
I picked it up, thinking maybe he had forgotten about it when he was choosing his clothes for work the next day.
The screen lit up again. “Can you call me when she’s asleep? – Lana”
My stomach dropped. Lana? Who was Lana? And a text sent at 2:30 in the morning?
And why did she know I was supposed to be asleep? Why did it feel like I had just stumbled into a conversation I was never supposed to see?
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