Chapter 19: First Signs of Trouble
Linda woke up to the sound of silence.
At first, she thought it was peaceful, a soft calm that filled the apartment. But as she opened her eyes and looked over at the empty space where he usually slept, a strange tightness formed in her chest. She rubbed her eyes, unsure if she was imagining things.
She went into the kitchen, expecting the smell of coffee or the sound of him humming as he prepared breakfast. But the apartment was quiet. The pancakes they had enjoyed the week before were gone. There was no warmth of his presence, just the cold air of solitude.
Linda frowned. "Where is he?" she murmured.
Her phone buzzed. A text from him: Running late, work came up. Don't wait for me.
She stared at the screen. Late? Work? It was unusual for him to forget about their plans, even when he was busy. She tried to brush it off, telling herself he had a deadline or something important at work.
The day passed, and he came home much later than usual. He didn't smile as he walked through the door, and his eyes didn't light up when he saw her. He dropped his bag on the couch and sighed, rubbing his temples.
"Rough day?" Linda asked cautiously, trying to sound cheerful.
"Yeah," he muttered, not meeting her gaze.
Linda nodded, her chest tightening slightly. Something felt off, though she couldn't quite put her finger on it.
The next morning, she noticed more unusual behavior. He left for work without saying goodbye properly, barely a kiss on her forehead, just a quick nod. He didn't answer her texts as quickly as before. His calls were shorter.
Linda tried to ignore it, thinking maybe he was just stressed or busy. But as the days went by, the changes became harder to dismiss.
One evening, she was cooking dinner when she heard his phone buzz repeatedly on the counter. He picked it up quickly, glancing at it before hiding the screen from her view. Linda's stomach twisted.
"Who's texting?" she asked casually, trying not to sound suspicious.
"Uh… just a colleague," he replied, too quickly, and a small frown crossed his face.
Linda forced a smile and nodded, but inside, a storm was forming. Something wasn't right.
Over the next week, she noticed subtle signs that made her uneasy. He seemed distracted when they were together, staring at his phone for long stretches. He didn't laugh at her jokes like he used to. He seemed distant, almost preoccupied.
Linda tried talking to him about it, trying to keep her voice light. "You've seemed a bit… off lately. Is everything okay?"
He shrugged. "I'm fine. Just tired, I guess."
She nodded, trying to believe him. But deep down, a small seed of doubt had been planted.
One night, she decided to surprise him with a small dinner she had prepared. She set the table with candles, cooked his favorite meal, and waited for him with a hopeful heart.
When he arrived, she smiled brightly. "Surprise! I thought we could have a nice dinner together."
He looked at her, then at the table, and muttered, "Oh… that's nice."
Linda's heart sank. The enthusiasm, the excitement, the love she had felt during the honeymoon phase—it all seemed muted.
"Is everything okay?" she asked gently, her voice tinged with worry.
"Yeah, just… tired," he said again, avoiding her eyes.
Linda forced a smile, though her stomach churned. Something was wrong. Something she couldn't name, but she felt it in the pit of her stomach.
The following days were a series of small, unsettling moments. He would leave the apartment suddenly, often without explanation. He seemed distracted during conversations. He didn't laugh or smile as much. Texts from him were brief, curt, and sometimes went unanswered.
Linda tried to ignore it, telling herself it was just a phase. He had been stressed before, and maybe he just needed time. But every time she caught him glancing at his phone or looking uneasy when she walked into the room, her heart sank a little more.
She began noticing other signs too. His tone changed—sometimes sharp, sometimes distant. He seemed less interested in spending time together, even in simple moments. The small gestures of affection that had filled the honeymoon phase were disappearing.
One evening, as they sat on the couch, she watched him scroll through his phone, his thumb moving quickly across the screen. Linda's heart twisted with unease.
"Who are you texting?" she asked quietly, trying to keep her voice calm.
He looked up, startled. "Uh… no one. Just checking something."
Linda frowned. "You always check your phone like that. Before, you didn't hide it from me."
"I'm tired, okay? Can we not do this right now?" he said, his tone slightly irritated.
Linda felt her chest tighten. She had never seen him speak to her like that before. It was a sharp contrast to the warmth and affection of the past weeks.
Days turned into weeks, and the distance grew. Linda tried to talk to him about it, but he always brushed her off. He was polite, but distant. He smiled, but the smiles didn't reach his eyes.
Linda felt the first real pangs of fear. Could it be that the happiness she had felt was slipping away? Could it be that the man she had trusted, the man she had opened her heart to, was no longer fully hers?
She tried to remind herself of the honeymoon phase, of the laughter, the love, the hope. But every small lie, every distraction, every secretive glance chipped away at her confidence.
One night, she lay awake on the couch, staring at the ceiling, feeling the emptiness between them. She could hear him in the kitchen, murmuring to someone on the phone. Her heart twisted. She didn't know who it was or what was being said, but the tone, the secrecy, the distance—it all spoke of something she couldn't yet face.
She tried to sleep, telling herself she was imagining things. But deep down, she knew that something had changed. The signs were subtle, but they were there.
The next morning, she noticed him leaving quickly for work again, the briefest kiss on her forehead. His eyes avoided hers. The tension was palpable.
Linda decided to give him space, telling herself it was just stress, just work, just a busy life. But every day, the signs grew stronger. The distance became harder to ignore.
She began questioning everything—the late nights, the phone secrecy, the lack of attention, the cold tone. The honeymoon phase, once so bright and full of hope, was fading into uncertainty.
One afternoon, she asked him directly. "Are we okay? Is there something going on?"
He sighed, avoiding her gaze. "We're fine. Really."
Linda wanted to believe him, but the unease in her chest refused to settle. She felt a knot form, a growing sense of dread she couldn't shake.
The first signs of trouble had arrived, and though she didn't know it yet, her heart was about to be tested in ways she could never have imagined.
For the first time since moving in, Linda didn't feel safe in the happiness she had built. The honeymoon phase was fading, and shadows were creeping into the life she thought was perfect.
She sat on the balcony that evening, staring at the city lights, feeling a mix of hope and fear. She wanted to trust him, wanted to believe in their love, but a small, persistent voice in her mind warned her that things were not as they seemed.
And deep down, Linda knew that this was only the beginning of a storm she couldn't yet see, a storm that would test her heart, her trust, and the very foundation of the life she had been dreaming of.