A fresh day. A fresh morning.
After a deep sleep, I woke up to the mouthwatering aroma of breakfast drifting in from the kitchen. My stomach growled the moment I caught the scent, loud enough to make me chuckle as I rubbed my eyes.
I got out of bed and walked towards the kitchen, the smell growing stronger with every step. As I entered, I saw her standing there by the stove, bathed in the soft morning light. She looked beautiful as always.
"Good morning," I said with a smile.
She turned to me, beaming. "Good morning."
I sniffed dramatically. "The smell is dangerous. You're testing my limits. I need to get that food in my stomach right now."
She let out a small laugh and replied, "Alright, alright. Take a seat and for today's special: mac and cheese. Made with extra cheese... and lots of love."
"Wow," I grinned, already pulling up a chair. I sat, holding spoons in both of my hands, looking at her like a starved puppy.
She placed the breakfast and I dived in, the first bite melting in my mouth. It was rich, creamy, and comforting in a way only her cooking could be.
After finishing, I stood up, stretched, and headed for the bathroom. "That was amazing. I needed that."
She called out behind me playfully, "There's more if your stomach decides to keep growling."
I laughed under my breath, closing the door behind me.
After freshening up, I headed into my workroom and sat down at the desk, shifting all my focus toward the tasks in front of me. Hours slipped by quietly, the silence only broken by the occasional rustle of paper or click of the mouse. Before I knew it, the clock had crept close to lunchtime.
I glanced up and smiled to myself. Any minute now, she would walk in with a plate of food, just like always. It had become such a comforting routine, something I didn't even need to ask for. She always remembered.
But twenty minutes passed. Still nothing.
I stared at the door for a few seconds. Strange. She was usually right on time. Maybe she got caught up in something... or maybe she was resting.
Then my thoughts went back to last night. She mentioned her stomach had been hurting. Was it acting up again? Was she feeling worse today?
Concern began to rise in my chest. I stood up, leaving the work behind for now. I needed to check on her, just to be sure everything was okay.
I stepped out of the workroom and checked the living room first. Empty. I moved into the kitchen, then peeked into the bedroom. Nothing. She wasn't home.
That explained why lunch never came.
But where had she gone?
I rubbed the back of my neck, trying to piece it together. Groceries? No, she usually went for those later in the afternoon, not this early. Maybe she'd gone out to pick up some medicine? That made sense. She had mentioned her stomach was hurting last night. Maybe it had flared up again, and she decided to get something for it.
I sighed and sat down on the edge of the couch, still halfway lost in my thoughts. Just as my mind began to wander further, I heard the front door open.
I didn't need to guess. I already knew who it was.
I got up and walked over as she stepped inside. She looked a little rushed, holding a small bag in one hand.
"Where were you?" I asked, trying to keep my tone light but curious.
She gave me a sheepish smile. "I'm so sorry. I was at Lina's place. I know I should've told you before going," she said, her voice gentle. "I just got caught up talking with Lina and completely lost track of time. I'm really sorry if I made you worry."
"Well well," I said with a smile, "looks like you and Lina are getting along really well."
She smiled and said, "Yeah, seems like it." Then added, "You must be hungry... just give me a few minutes, I'll get your lunch ready."
I chuckled and said, "Relax and Take your time."
I let out a small breath. So, that's where she was, feeling my shoulders relax.
The rest of the day moved slowly, peacefully. No rush. No anxiety. I was beginning to understand that sometimes, the storm was only in my head. I had been carrying so much doubt, so much overthinking, that it clouded everything. But lately, something was changing.
I was learning to let go.
I was chasing away the insecurities one by one, not letting them take root like before.
I trusted her. Fully and completely.
And right now, that was more than enough.
The next day felt much like the one before—calm, quiet, peaceful in the best possible way. She looked cheerful as ever, humming to herself while cooking or cleaning, smiling easily whenever I spoke. There was something soft and warm in the air, like the house itself had started breathing easier. Maybe it was just us finally settling down. Or maybe it was her.
She had started visiting Lina's place regularly now, but unlike before, she always told me beforehand. "I'm heading to Lina's for a bit," she'd say with a quick smile, "We might bake something new, or just chill." Sometimes she'd even offer to bring back something Lina made. I appreciated that. It showed she thought of me. It made me feel included.
At least she had someone she could talk to. Someone she could laugh and gossip with, someone other than me. And that made me happy too. I mean, isn't that what you want in a relationship? For your partner to feel happy?
Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Days passed in the blink of an eye, and I found myself feeling lighter, more grounded. I wasn't overthinking anymore. I wasn't getting stuck in my head, second-guessing things. My trust in her had never been stronger.
Sometimes Lina would come over to our place instead. The two of them would laugh in the kitchen or chat quietly in the living room. I'd catch a few giggles through the walls while working, their voices low and teasing. I'd smile to myself. They really had become best friends. That bond between them only seemed to deepen each day.
Lina, for her part, would occasionally drop small bits of advice here and there—little things that strangely helped. She had this way of talking that made me feel reassured. Nothing intrusive. Just subtle, calming insights. "You're doing great," she'd say once in a while, looking at me with a smile that felt oddly knowing. I never questioned it. I appreciated the kindness.
And then… there was us.
Our nights had changed too. Slowly, steadily.
Our sex life had improved. She'd started taking more initiative, often catching me off guard. No longer waiting for my touch, but reaching out for me with hungry hands, pulling me close with quiet urgency. She didn't ask for permission—she didn't need to. Her body spoke louder than words.
There were nights where she'd climb on top of me without a word, grinding herself against me like she couldn't wait a second longer. She'd move rougher than I expected, her hips slamming down hard, over and over, until I was left breathless. Her nails would dig into my chest. It was raw and desperate. And beautiful in its own way.
She was being expressive with her needs and I welcomed it. I loved it. Even if I struggled to match her energy sometimes, I gave her everything I had.
Whatever it was, I was happy.
She seemed beautiful than ever.
And I was lucky to be the man she desired.
And the neighbors... well, even they didn't seem as strange as I used to think. Maybe it was just me back then—tense, paranoid, overanalyzing everything. Because lately, when I stepped out for a walk or went to the store, I'd bump into them here and there, and they looked like normal people. Nothing bizarre. Nothing unsettling.
The old man would still sit outside on his yard from time to time. I'd give him a polite nod or a "hello," and he'd respond with a smile. Yes, that smile was still disgusting. It still made my skin crawl a little—but for some reason, it didn't sit as heavy on my chest anymore. That weird tension I used to feel around him? Gone.
And the younger neighbor, the one with that cocky attitude and smug expression—he wasn't much different. If we crossed paths, he'd casually say hello. Brief, indifferent, but civil. He still had that arrogant air about him, the way he walked like the world owed him something, but maybe that was just his nature. Some guys are just like that. It didn't necessarily mean he had anything against me.
I guess I started realizing that people aren't always how we picture them in our heads. Maybe I'd been projecting things that weren't there. Maybe I was just overthinking before. I mean, they hadn't done anything wrong.
And more importantly—my wife was here, with me. Happy and smiling. The house felt warm again. That was all that mattered.
I even caught myself smiling back at them now. A quick nod. A friendly greeting. Nothing forced. Just… natural. Like I'd finally learned to let go of the anxiety. To stop seeing shadows where there were none.