Speaker 1: The running jacket was the first thing. I only found
Speaker 1: it because the dryer was taking forever that night, and
Speaker 1: I had gone back into the bedroom to fold a
Speaker 1: basket of towels. I like folding laundry. It sues me
Speaker 1: matching socks and lining up John's workout shirts by color,
Speaker 1: pretending I have more control over our life than I
Speaker 1: probably do. His jin bag was slarched against the closet wall,
Speaker 1: half sipped over, flowing with bold up shorts, approaching bar wrapper,
Speaker 1: the usual chaos he liked to call his organized mess.
Speaker 1: I bent to grab it off the floor, and the
Speaker 1: sleeve of a jacket slipt out, A weighty, expensive looking
Speaker 1: thing in crisp blue fabric, not the neon when brick
Speaker 1: as John usually ran in, but luxury, subtle logo, buttery, smoothed, attached,
Speaker 1: technical but stylish. It was way too nice for his
Speaker 1: usual gear. I paused, thumb grazing the shiny zipper. A
Speaker 1: faint said, clung to it clean, not sweat, but sweet,
Speaker 1: almost floral. John didn't work alone. I hited how it
Speaker 1: caught him my throat during workouts, so I couldn't place it.
Speaker 1: I displourged. He had a secret soft spot for upbraids,
Speaker 1: sometimes putting off things like grocery for days to buy
Speaker 1: the newest running gadget. But he would have told me
Speaker 1: we traded gear tips like currency. Just as I started
Speaker 1: to check the inside tag, the bathroom door creaked open.
Speaker 1: John stepped out in a towel, hair damp ear but
Speaker 1: stangling from his neck. He saw me holding the jacket.
Speaker 1: Froze for the briefest second, long enough for the tension
Speaker 1: to vibrate in the room. I lifted the sleeve. This
Speaker 1: is new, he blinked, then shrugged, an easy smell flickering
Speaker 1: on though that. Yeah, Brian from the club let me
Speaker 1: burrow it. I guess it's some high end thing he
Speaker 1: won at a marathon raffle. He wanted me to try
Speaker 1: it before I thought about buying. He had an answer ready,
Speaker 1: but I'd seen the hesitation. My hackles tingled, but I
Speaker 1: said nothing, folding the jacket in a neat square and
Speaker 1: placing it on the edge of the dresser, cool, I replied,
Speaker 1: keeping my voice light, you want it back in your bag.
Speaker 1: John's eyes darted to the jacket, then to me. Oh
Speaker 1: yea thanks, I'll see Bryan tomorrow. Wouldn't want him to
Speaker 1: think I'd made off with this fancy stuff. He plucked
Speaker 1: the jacket, stuffed it back into the tangle of clothes.
Speaker 1: I watched his board back as he moved through the bedroom,
Speaker 1: his casualness all forced. Then clearing his throat, he switched
Speaker 1: the top, cast what was for dinner, mused about a
Speaker 1: new project at work, and drifted into the kitchen while
Speaker 1: I finished folding towels. A flicker of called up ran
Speaker 1: through me, quick as a shadow across the wall, but
Speaker 1: I pressed it down. After all, his club was full
Speaker 1: of gear obsessives. I was probably reading into nothing, letting
Speaker 1: my marketing brain chase the story behind a product. Still,
Speaker 1: as John signed along to music in the shower, his
Speaker 1: voice echoing through the condo, something in his routine now
Speaker 1: struck me as unfamiliar, slightly to breaktice. Every relationship is private, languages,
Speaker 1: rituals particular enough to mean home in hours. It started
Speaker 1: at sunrise, Me shuffling to the kitchen to set out
Speaker 1: coffee pots, John grinding beans because of pausa for credence, Lee,
Speaker 1: come on. We negotiated piece treaties over breakfast. Who got
Speaker 1: the show first, who'd opened the afternoon emails three times
Speaker 1: a week. We meal prepped together, dividing the fridge between
Speaker 1: Quinno salad and John's questionable protein experiment. John called me
Speaker 1: the adult in the room, pretending to resent how I
Speaker 1: color coded the calendar on our wall, even though he
Speaker 1: liked knowing what was coming next. On Sunday, we cycled
Speaker 1: the lake from trail racing for the best patio seats
Speaker 1: at brunch. We've always been the couple people call competitive
Speaker 1: that the ad affectionate as a qualifier, laughing a little
Speaker 1: when we tease each other about to carrying our cycling
Speaker 1: team on weekends. There's a current between us, half rivalry,
Speaker 1: half complicity that feels like home. John works into consulting projects, clients,
Speaker 1: or phone that never stays silent. But he's agile, funny,
Speaker 1: social in a way that's effortless and exasperating all at once.
Speaker 1: He collects new friends the way I collect books. I
Speaker 1: stick to our core group Sir and her girlfriend, Jess,
Speaker 1: Ben and Monica from our building, and a couple of
Speaker 1: John's old college friends who show up at every gathering,
Speaker 1: still slightly amazed at how grown up we all are.
Speaker 1: John's family lives in Seattle, minds out east, so our
Speaker 1: downtown condo is the locus of everything. Impromptu Taca Knights,
Speaker 1: birthday drinks, the odd board game rivalry with stakes that
Speaker 1: grow ridiculous after a few glasses of wine. We made
Speaker 1: this life together. It felts all as like something you
Speaker 1: could lean on. Date nights are sacred to Friday ritual,
Speaker 1: even if it's just Susha and trivia games on the couch.
Speaker 1: On our six anniversary last spring, we traded gifts, both
Speaker 1: secretly buying high boots, laughing so hard we woke the cat.
Speaker 1: We'd always mark a milestone with something active. John suggesting
Speaker 1: a half marathon, me planning at Somer's paddlebar. We talk
Speaker 1: in joint gulls, a phrase that makes both of us
Speaker 1: roll our eyes while quietly leaning closer. Still, there are
Speaker 1: things that have always felt slightly lopsided. John, with his charisma,
Speaker 1: can make a stranger laugh inside of three minutes. I
Speaker 1: need an hour, tea, drinks and a friend standing beside me.
Speaker 1: I notice details, people's tones, gaps in stories, shifts in light,
Speaker 1: and sometimes the sea. Worry With his just destruction, John
Speaker 1: jokes that I run the ship, then complains I don't
Speaker 1: let things breathe. We've argued more than once about control.
Speaker 1: My need to know is need for space. Mostly we
Speaker 1: meet in the middle, or so I thought. The running
Speaker 1: club was John's territory. For months. He talked about missing
Speaker 1: the camaraderie he had in college track. I nudged him
Speaker 1: to join. I even found the club online, texted to
Speaker 1: sign up details one night after he muttered about running
Speaker 1: the strangers. I'd hesitated briefly before sending it, worrying stupidly
Speaker 1: that his new hobby would take him somewhere I couldn't follow,
Speaker 1: but I'd squashed you down. Who was I to anchor him?
Speaker 1: So I cheered when he laced up for his first
Speaker 1: group run in March, snapping a photer for his Instagram,
Speaker 1: making an epicch fuss over his new pack. Even when
Speaker 1: the runs became nightly, then overlapping with dinner or date nights,
Speaker 1: I told myself I was happy for him. John was
Speaker 1: happy too, at first. Anyway, He'd come home, sweaty and glowing,
Speaker 1: telling fast stories about Hill's conquered funny things. Some one
Speaker 1: said a group text argument about GPS watches. I smiled
Speaker 1: and asked Christians keeping my own reservations tight against my chest.
Speaker 1: He needed this, I needed him to need it. I
Speaker 1: keep thinking about that, how much you can need something
Speaker 1: for some one else, and how quickly you stopped recognizing
Speaker 1: your own motives. It was a Thursday when the routines
Speaker 1: first cracked. Normally we'd cook together, John mincingarlic, me ugging
Speaker 1: over all of oil as Fleet would Mac fill the background. Instead,
Speaker 1: John text a late, stopping for post run drinks. Don't
Speaker 1: wait up, love you. His phrasing sounded a little too glad,
Speaker 1: the kind of cheerfulness that acts his insulation. At first,
Speaker 1: I chalked it up till long week, but then it
Speaker 1: happened again and again. After a month, Thursday dinners were gone,
Speaker 1: Fridays were hit or miss. John started coming home late,
Speaker 1: often after I'd already wound down with tea and half
Speaker 1: a novel. Sometimes he'd breeze in, smelling like fresh sweat
Speaker 1: and soap hay a stole wet from cloud showers, pressing
Speaker 1: a kiss to my forehead, as if apologizing for something unnamed.
Speaker 1: He became more protective of his fallen too. He would
Speaker 1: step out on to the balcony, murmuring into the receiver.
Speaker 1: The city dinner shield at night, I'd hear the low
Speaker 1: burrow of his voice, loft and muffled behind the closed door,
Speaker 1: stranger more intimate than his usual high volume catch ups
Speaker 1: with friends. A few times I caught myself hovering outside,
Speaker 1: straining to pick up a word or two. Hating how's reptitious,
Speaker 1: I sounded, even to myself. Eventually, I asked, lightly over dinner,
Speaker 1: making a show of being nonchalant, maybe I could tag
Speaker 1: along for one of your runs next week. John's response
Speaker 1: was oddly quick, Oh, it's mostly a guy's thing right now.
Speaker 1: Kind of a burwrunt. Later in the season, some partners
Speaker 1: joined for the longer races. But it is pretty chill,
Speaker 1: just as decompressing, he smiled, but of vaded my eyes,
Speaker 1: tucking into his posture as if to wall off the conversation.
Speaker 1: I swallowed, nodding, Sure, no problem. I buried the flickering
Speaker 1: resentment in my robes, blaming it on WorkStress. My team
Speaker 1: was deep in a product launch, my in books overflowing
Speaker 1: with requests. Of course, I felt left out. I barely
Speaker 1: had time for our usual routines. I had promised myself
Speaker 1: not to snoop, repeating John's words, don't overthink everything, Babe,
Speaker 1: Just let me have this thing for myself. Still it's
Speaker 1: at there, small and sharp. The next weekend, I grabbed
Speaker 1: brunch with Serra at our usual spot. I toyed with
Speaker 1: my coffee, watching the sunlight strike patterns on the table
Speaker 1: and try to articulate the wave hollow place John's new
Speaker 1: routine had left in my side of the bed. I
Speaker 1: know it, silly, I said, But I filled this weird
Speaker 1: wall around his new hobby like I not invited. Sarah nodded,
Speaker 1: I get it. Just went through the same thing when
Speaker 1: I joined my crab Maugacus. Suddenly I was busy during
Speaker 1: our hangouts, but it shifted after a few weeks. I
Speaker 1: relaxed a little. Sarah was the person in our group
Speaker 1: who'd known me the longest, who understood how my brain
Speaker 1: knitted together worries and facts. I guess I just want
Speaker 1: to no hout's going. John's always been so easy about
Speaker 1: including me, she said to her Mimosa. Honestly, don't sweat it.
Speaker 1: A lot of club spouses popinett events. Did you hear
Speaker 1: about that hill climb thing last month? Apparently everyone's significant
Speaker 1: others ended up at the after party. I blinked, John
Speaker 1: said it was just the runners. Sarah shrugged. Maybe he's
Speaker 1: waiting for a big event or something. Who knows what
Speaker 1: these clubs. You'll get your intro on the walk home.
Speaker 1: I reapaid our conversation a commentnying at the edge of
Speaker 1: John's roady explanations. Was I making something out of nothing?
Speaker 1: Or had John's guy's only story glossed over the messer truth?
Speaker 1: I resolved to drop it for now. My default setting,
Speaker 1: owned by years in marketing, is to check details, trace edges,
Speaker 1: plan for contingencies. John teases me that I'll organize our
Speaker 1: obitrary color coded by lifetime milestones. But I can't help it,
Speaker 1: as how my brain works when anything feels uncertain. Following week,
Speaker 1: the oddities began to pile up with an unrelenting, sneaky rhythm.
Speaker 1: First it was my colleague Natasha, passing by my office
Speaker 1: as we wrapped up an internal call. She paused, picking
Speaker 1: at the kale and her salae and smiled. I saw
Speaker 1: John at for juice yesterday after my pillets clasped. He
Speaker 1: looked so fit, she grined, elbowing me gently. He was
Speaker 1: with his club right saw him chatting with a pettitepounett
Speaker 1: looked like they were book going after a run. My
Speaker 1: mouth dried out. Yesterday ran six. She nodded, Yeah, I
Speaker 1: was getting my greens to go. He waved, but looked busy.
Speaker 1: He must get used to sharing him with that crowd,
Speaker 1: ha I smiled thinly, swallowing with effort. Here he said
Speaker 1: he was working late after running, must have swung by
Speaker 1: de juice bar on his way, But the logic didn't fit.
Speaker 1: John had texted that he was drowning an email's post run,
Speaker 1: no mention of a juice stop or running with anyone specific.
Speaker 1: The memory of the luxury jacket flashed through my mind.
Speaker 1: It unfamiliar scent lingering in the air of our closet.
Speaker 1: That evening, after John slipped away to the balcony with
Speaker 1: his throne, I cracked open his Instagram, scrolling back over ones.
Speaker 1: John used to post relentlessly group shots with runners, mid rays,
Speaker 1: selfie's goofy podium photos captioned with bad puns. But since
Speaker 1: joining the new club, his feet had gone oddly quiet.
Speaker 1: No c obtacks, no group photos, not even his usual
Speaker 1: runstat screenshots, just work events. The occasional landscape from us
Speaker 1: cycling trips, a handful of fruit shots. His run streak
Speaker 1: had supposedly continued, but online it was like the runs
Speaker 1: didn't exist. Wack smollowed me for two straight days, but
Speaker 1: I couldn't shake the unnies. I made a decision impulsive
Speaker 1: for me, almost guilt and you sing, I would surprise
Speaker 1: John at the next club run just away for low
Speaker 1: maybe break the weird ice. Thursday night, I jobbed two
Speaker 1: blocks of the riverside park where the club met. The
Speaker 1: place was buzzing, runners stretching in neon jackets, music from
Speaker 1: a portable speaker. I recognized a face or two from
Speaker 1: John's stories, and summoning my courage, sidled up to a
Speaker 1: guy he'd mentioned before, Marco's slim and friendly, tying his shoe. Hey,
Speaker 1: Marco's right, Jon's wife Lee. He grinned, Oh, Lee, good
Speaker 1: to meet you. Finally, John always says, you're a beast
Speaker 1: on a bike. He joining us. I shook my head
Speaker 1: just swinging by to say hi, is John here? Marco's
Speaker 1: looked puzzled. Actually, I think he left with a fe
Speaker 1: Folks for dinner. The front groups put off Naomi and
Speaker 1: some others. I tried to sound casual may only he
Speaker 1: checked his phone, shrugged. Here she organizes a lot of
Speaker 1: cob routes, sometimes post run people high at the Tops
Speaker 1: place on six. I'm sure John will be back next
Speaker 1: week for track night, though he's hard to keep up both.
Speaker 1: I smiled, thanked him, retreating before I could press for details.
Speaker 1: My heart pounded. I see as I walked the long
Speaker 1: route home if John had left with Naomi. Why had
Speaker 1: he told me he was running late? Solo and then
Speaker 1: back to the office. The next day, flowers arrived at
Speaker 1: our door. I opened the package, expecting another cheer up
Speaker 1: gesture from Monica or belated birthday from my mum. Instead,
Speaker 1: a bucket of sunflowers and irises bright, a little wild,
Speaker 1: not my style, but cheerful. The note reed, great job,
Speaker 1: see you at the next hill sprint. The handwriting was
Speaker 1: tight upright, unfamiliar. No name. John came home. As I
Speaker 1: placed the vase on the counter, WHA are those for you?
Speaker 1: I shook my head, holding out the card, No idea.
Speaker 1: Maybe someone's congratulating you for something hell Sprints. He glanced
Speaker 1: at the card, lits tightening for a second, then gave
Speaker 1: his bright, over casual smile, probably Marco's He always does
Speaker 1: stuff like this after a hard workout. Maybe he's trying
Speaker 1: to sit me up. Something fractured, just a hair feather
Speaker 1: inside me. I focused on sweeping up stray petals, feeling
Speaker 1: the grains of doubt accumulating under my skin. That's Saturday.
Speaker 1: Sarah and Jess came over for dinner, bottles of wine
Speaker 1: and fresh bread and tow The conversation skittered over the
Speaker 1: usual absurdities work gossip that travails a parallel parking downtown
Speaker 1: near dessert. Sarah mentioned her recent pop in at a
Speaker 1: club event. Naomi is hilarious, Sara sad. She had everyone
Speaker 1: doing weird warm ups, even the kits. John and she
Speaker 1: were going out at super Competitive. I think he won barely.
Speaker 1: The club has so much energy, Lee, you'd fit right in.
Speaker 1: I forced a smile. Naomi, she runs the admin staff, right.
Speaker 1: Jess nodded, Yes, she's kind of the social glue. John
Speaker 1: Clearing Place spoke up from the sink. It's a tight group,
Speaker 1: for sure. We keep each other motivated. On Monday, as
Speaker 1: I made our weekly payments online, I pulled up our
Speaker 1: bank recuess to cover the utilities. Something clitched in my chest.
Speaker 1: John's card show charges from two restaurants. Had never heard
Speaker 1: of Belvy Bistro Vida Toppers. One match the night he'd
Speaker 1: claimed to be working late post run. The other I
Speaker 1: knew for show wasn't with me. I'dedn solo left over
Speaker 1: curry in front of the TV. The next day, on
Speaker 1: my lunch break, I stopped by Vida Topper's, adrenaline spiking
Speaker 1: as I scanned the menu, running shoes clustered under tables,
Speaker 1: laughter bubbling from groups gathered by the bar. Naomi's name
Speaker 1: circled in my head, spinning amoud. Afterward, I said nothing
Speaker 1: to John, not yet. I needed to be sure. In
Speaker 1: the evenings, he plug in his head from his claim
Speaker 1: he had assumed with a Seattle client, but the tone
Speaker 1: was softer, intimate. I noticed he left the house earlier
Speaker 1: for jogs, lingering later, often showing at the gym our
Speaker 1: share of rituals freed at the edges. Date nights were
Speaker 1: postponed or shortened. When I asked if he wanted to
Speaker 1: plan a weekend trip our anniversary tradition, he'd deflected, murmuring
Speaker 1: about needing downtime. I missed how I laughter he used
Speaker 1: to echo off the kitchen towels. How our routines fell,
Speaker 1: effortless and close. Now it was all hum of tension.
Speaker 1: John a bundle of destructions, quick to change the sun subject.
Speaker 1: When I tried to reconnect, he grew annoyed, snapped out
Speaker 1: I was always making things harder. That he was under
Speaker 1: pressure and needed space to breathe without questions. Sex was
Speaker 1: different too, less playful, more hurried. John drifted through it,
Speaker 1: half absent, sometimes murmuring you're just tied, and rolling away,
Speaker 1: leaving cold space between us. I lay awake, rehearsing questions
Speaker 1: I never asked. I confided in Sarah again, careful not
Speaker 1: to seem hysterical. Maybe I'm making something out of nothing,
Speaker 1: I admitted, voice creaky with doubt. But everything's a half answer.
Speaker 1: She squeezed my hand. But trist you're Gotley, You're not crazy.
Speaker 1: You've always picked up on things the rest of us miss.
Speaker 1: On Wednesday, the tension cracked after a club run. As
Speaker 1: we unloaded groceries, I've lurted, is this something going on
Speaker 1: with a running club or with someone there, or anything
Speaker 1: I should know about? John's face hardened, Jesus, Lee, It's
Speaker 1: not always about you being in control, all right, I
Speaker 1: told you I need this for myself, but within minutes
Speaker 1: his mood shifted. He softened, stepping closer, voice lower. Actually,
Speaker 1: I was planning to tell you something soon. I didn't
Speaker 1: want to stress you out. I stiffened. Tell me what, hegrin,
Speaker 1: pulling me closer, diffusing attention. I'm running in a relay race,
Speaker 1: regional qualifier. They do this thing every year where you
Speaker 1: can't tell anyone until you're officially ended. It's like tradition.
Speaker 1: The club's superstitious about newbies jinxing the team if they talk.
Speaker 1: That's why I've been hush hush, cross my heart. Nothing
Speaker 1: weird or shady. I just wanted to surprise you with
Speaker 1: something good for once. I'm sorry, He kissed me, pressing
Speaker 1: his forehead to mine. I planned a weekend away for
Speaker 1: us after the race to make it up. You deserve
Speaker 1: more than leftovers and mis dates, babe. His tone was
Speaker 1: so genuine, so earnest. For a moment, the nott much
Speaker 1: yess loosened. Maybe I had let the tension poison my trust.
Speaker 1: Maybe John really had just wanted to bring me a
Speaker 1: victory surprised me. When things felt dull for the next
Speaker 1: few days, lifelt almost normal. John showed me with small affections,
Speaker 1: my favorite bottle of wine, take out from the type place.
Speaker 1: I loved foot massages while we watched he runs late.
Speaker 1: He even talked about future chirps, asking where I wanted
Speaker 1: to explore. After his big run, I relax let sir
Speaker 1: and my niiccao. I felt better, almost embarrassed at my
Speaker 1: elder anxiety. John was attentive, dentle, his old self re
Speaker 1: emerging in small flushes that felt both familiar and fragile.
Speaker 1: But as the relay race approach, cracks appeared once again.
Speaker 1: John said he'd be out for a team building with
Speaker 1: the clubmorst evenings, prepping with new teammates. He brought home
Speaker 1: the extra late Dinner's eyes flickering over me as I
Speaker 1: tried to ask how he was feeling. I chalked it
Speaker 1: up to knows we both thried on competition before, but
Speaker 1: something still felt off. His affection was real, but his
Speaker 1: schedule was loser, more difficult to pin down. His phone
Speaker 1: was always face down, notifications off. Sarah texted me on
Speaker 1: a rainy mid week morning. Saw this on the club
Speaker 1: group chat. Everyone looked ampt. Attached was a photo a
Speaker 1: smiling cluster of runners holding up a home and signed
Speaker 1: reading qualifiers. The team wore matching shirts. I zoomed in,
Speaker 1: searching for John. He wasn't in a photo. He told
Speaker 1: me he was at the event. I waited, giving him
Speaker 1: a chance to mention it, but when he came home
Speaker 1: that night, he launched into a detailed story about prepping
Speaker 1: for the relay with teammates. When I gently mentioned the photo,
Speaker 1: he brushed it off. Bo That must have been after
Speaker 1: I left early to meet Naomi at the gym to
Speaker 1: work out splits for the relay. She's a machine. I nodded,
Speaker 1: trying to absorb it, but my stomach sank. That night,
Speaker 1: when John fell asleep, I sat in the living room
Speaker 1: and stared at my own phone, a throbbing behind my eyes.
Speaker 1: I scowled the club's Instagram, flicking through post after posting,
Speaker 1: no mention of the realer Russer no tagged photos of John.
Speaker 1: At two a m. A message, Marco's nervous energy clumping
Speaker 1: in my chest, Hey, I keep missing John at the
Speaker 1: club stuff as he'd been coming out. He's so busy lately.
Speaker 1: A few minutes later, the dots bounced in my chat.
Speaker 1: Actually haven't seen him on runs in a few weeks.
Speaker 1: Think he's just hitting the gym lately. He sometimes leaves
Speaker 1: with Neomi after casual runs. But pretty sure he's not
Speaker 1: running with the group lately. He should ask him. I
Speaker 1: don't want intrude. The message was polite, but the age
Speaker 1: was unmistakable. What was John doing? Really? I opened John's
Speaker 1: laptop on account of the password was the same as always,
Speaker 1: The name of his undergrad doorman, pulled up his bank account,
Speaker 1: lining up the recent expenses. More eubre rites stirred on
Speaker 1: meet nights, all centered around in address I didn't recognize.
Speaker 1: Hugo Maps dropped up in at seven hundred seven Overlook,
Speaker 1: a sleek apartment complex halfway across town. Naomi's Instagram bio
Speaker 1: listed Overlook Appshush four hundred twelve reds at tag. I
Speaker 1: stopped breathing for a moment. Several rides ended there late
Speaker 1: at night, often after John claimed he'd be prepping with
Speaker 1: the team. Another bar popped up, lunar roof up. I
Speaker 1: never heard him mention it my chest eight. I stared
Speaker 1: at the numbers, remembering every casual mention of a long
Speaker 1: day or unexpected club dinner. Every postponed plan. I barely slept,
Speaker 1: rattling from suspicion to rage, to gilt and back again.
Speaker 1: I snapped a colleague at work. Struggled to focus during
Speaker 1: back to back calls. My nerve stretched to translucency. Once
Speaker 1: here a call, I nearly burst into tears. Come over,
Speaker 1: she said, just for wine and space to think. I
Speaker 1: shook my head, voice thick. I don't know what to do.
Speaker 1: I feel like I'm unraveling. You're not going crazy, she insisted.
Speaker 1: Trust her Pattam finding superpower, but maybe it's time to
Speaker 1: confront him. For John came home late, the city lights
Speaker 1: bleeding yellow on to his face as he dropped his
Speaker 1: keys in the bowl. Crazy and I really prep you awake,
Speaker 1: he said, kicking his shoes off, not bothering to hide
Speaker 1: his exhaustion. I watched him wearily. How was the team dinner?
Speaker 1: He flinched just barely, then recovered good. We went deep
Speaker 1: on strategy. I need carbs in sleep, He made a quicksand,
Speaker 1: which I was never meeting mine. I thought about all
Speaker 1: the times I'd kept the peace, silenced hard questions, and
Speaker 1: resented my own silence. Later the next afternoon, shakeype it determined.
Speaker 1: I called Naomi. The number was buried in the club's
Speaker 1: group E mail masters ADM Naomia. I rehest my lie
Speaker 1: three times, finally settling on breezy curiosity. Hi, Naomi, it's Lee,
Speaker 1: John's wife. I wanted to ask about joining the club,
Speaker 1: maybe grabbing some guest info for spouses. There was a pause,
Speaker 1: then a warm, slightly startled voice though, Lee, sorry you
Speaker 1: caught me at work. Yeah, of course I can send details.
Speaker 1: I loved hanning with John during those stressful client pitches.
Speaker 1: We usually decompressed Luna after He's fun company made you
Speaker 1: can join him next time. I hung up Paul's hammering
Speaker 1: so hard my vision blurred client pitches. John hadn't mentioned
Speaker 1: work events with Naomi. She sounded too familiar at He's
Speaker 1: in a space I thought was mine. I sat on
Speaker 1: our marital bed, son slanting sharply across the quilt, and
Speaker 1: realized I'd cross from suspicion to something solid, not just
Speaker 1: casual lies, but a constructed world, carefully separated from the
Speaker 1: one I thought we were living. I heard John's footsteps
Speaker 1: in the hale, keys jangling, and I steeled myself everything
Speaker 1: in me, bracing for the storm. To come. The door
Speaker 1: clicked open, and John's voice trailed in ahead of him.
Speaker 1: He was talking to someone. It took me a moment
Speaker 1: to realize he had his blue at the apiece on.
Speaker 1: He muttered, Yeah, I'll ping you when I get those files. No,
Speaker 1: don't worry, I can clean it up before the client call. Okay,
Speaker 1: we'll circle back tomorrow. Nay. He tossed his keys in
Speaker 1: a bowl, glanced out, spotted me sitting on the edge
Speaker 1: of our bed, with an unreadable expression plastered over his face.
Speaker 1: Hey you're up, he said, sounding surprised for someone who'd
Speaker 1: sent me ac you soon text twenty minutes before. Yeah,
Speaker 1: couldn't sleep. I tried to keep my voice slack, casual.
Speaker 1: The phone call still echoed in my ears. I wondered,
Speaker 1: not for the first time, who the hell he was
Speaker 1: talking to, if he'd ever used that professional, brisk voice
Speaker 1: with me. John stripped off his jacket, kicked his shoes
Speaker 1: under the bench. He towered silent for a beat, rubbing
Speaker 1: the back of his neck. Here, Okay, I'm fine, I said,
Speaker 1: My voice felt paper. Then he lingered by the door,
Speaker 1: then crossed to the dresser started emptying his pocket's wallet
Speaker 1: crinkled receipts club membership card and pointedly avoided my eyes.
Speaker 1: I saw a fresh rist band peeking out from under
Speaker 1: his sleeve, a color I recognized from lunar roofed Up's
Speaker 1: social posts. He didn't offer an explanation, and I didn't ask,
Speaker 1: fear of rooting me in place. I'm going to shower,
Speaker 1: John said, abruptly, peeling out of his sweaty clothes. In
Speaker 1: the old days, I'd have followed him in, raking my
Speaker 1: fingers over his back, tracing mussel and warmth to night.
Speaker 1: I just watched a half closed door, the sound of
Speaker 1: water running uff all my thoughts, leaving only a single
Speaker 1: repeating refrain, what exactly do I know? I what do
Speaker 1: I want to know? When he emerged, towel around his waist,
Speaker 1: I was curled on my side, feigning sleep. He slid
Speaker 1: quietly into bid behind me, not reaching out, not touching,
Speaker 1: his breath slow and regular through the wall. I could
Speaker 1: hear the soft tom of someone else's life carrying on.
Speaker 1: The couple in eight bee laughing over wine, the elevator
Speaker 1: cable shuddering. The world felt both brutally near and impossibly
Speaker 1: far away. Over the next few days, a powderfine distance
Speaker 1: settled in. John would leave early, be home late. He
Speaker 1: abandoned our kitchen banter, consulting his phone instead of me
Speaker 1: about plans for the week. If I asked about the relay,
Speaker 1: he'd pivot to his heart to explain secret club traditions.
Speaker 1: Scripped performed by wrote his body was present, but his
Speaker 1: energy darted elsewhere every chance it got. The condo took
Speaker 1: on the wrong kind of cliet. I responded by overcompensating,
Speaker 1: cleaning mill prepping, leaving immaculate tupperware, and stacked laundry everywhere
Speaker 1: I could. On Friday, I sharpened pencils at the workspace
Speaker 1: we shared as a ford could ward of chaos. A
Speaker 1: stormy Saturday hit, caging me indoors while John claimed yet
Speaker 1: another long one with the really squad may be grabbing bunch.
Speaker 1: After I texted Sarah, who invited me over to vent
Speaker 1: or just drink and squawk at all reality shows. Instead,
Speaker 1: I declined and restless, and annoyed with myself for waiting
Speaker 1: on John like he was a teenager breaking curfew. He
Speaker 1: returned after three p m. Lashes went from rain shoes
Speaker 1: splotted with mud that was brutal he said, already peeling
Speaker 1: off his shirt heading for the laundry. I sitting at
Speaker 1: the kitchen island with my laptop upon EMA's blood by worry,
Speaker 1: watched as he shook out his damp socks. Something silver
Speaker 1: and glinting fell from his running back, A tiny hot
Speaker 1: shaped charm attached to key ring. I picked it up,
Speaker 1: turning the piece in my palm. This yours, John stopped
Speaker 1: toweling off, glanced over erroh, we did not mine. Must
Speaker 1: have picked up from the clubhouse floor or something. People
Speaker 1: are always dropping stuff. He flashed a smile that didn't
Speaker 1: quite reach his eyes, took the charm from my hand,
Speaker 1: tossed it into the junk drawer, and went to shower.
Speaker 1: The drawer stuck the gesture hasty. After his shower, he
Speaker 1: padded past me in sweatpins and a club t shirt.
Speaker 1: Want anything from that bakery on eighth I need carbs
Speaker 1: after the mileage. The performance of Normaldy was almost perfect.
Speaker 1: Almost that evening. I lay out our jim Bag's side
Speaker 1: by side in the hall, a silent all, and she
Speaker 1: pretended not to notice his match. My movements tidy, predictable, safe,
Speaker 1: but his foam was always on vibrate to flip face down.
Speaker 1: He texted with brief hard taps of his thumbs, then,
Speaker 1: when asked to clean, it's just work and of cor
Speaker 1: de crunch. Sunday morning should have been our time, coffee
Speaker 1: in bed, half asleep, banter across with puzzle we'd never finish. Instead,
Speaker 1: I woked to the smell of John's running shoes by
Speaker 1: the door and the soft whir of the elliptical in
Speaker 1: our building's tiny jim He hadn't left a note. The
Speaker 1: blank side of the bed was cold. By mid morning,
Speaker 1: he returned, sweatsliked, and flushed. I listened from the kitchen
Speaker 1: as he banked around in the shower, the pips whistling
Speaker 1: as they always did when the water hit hot. Then
Speaker 1: he laid his GPS watch near the coffee pop almost
Speaker 1: pointedly when he ducked into the pantry. I picked up
Speaker 1: the watch and scroll through his last few workouts. Only
Speaker 1: the lock stopped midweek. I suppose club run the night
Speaker 1: before was recorded as a solo walk three miles at
Speaker 1: a crawling case. No really prep, no group challenge stats.
Speaker 1: He returned, saw me with his watch and made a
Speaker 1: joke about tracking his personal wat parade I forced a
Speaker 1: tight smile. Later, I met Sou for lunch, Desperate for distraction.
Speaker 1: She ordered wine, told me Jess was working late, and
Speaker 1: then shot me a sly look. So rough Patstal, sheesked,
Speaker 1: lowering her voice. As the waitress set down our salads.
Speaker 1: I hesitated, then spilled everything strange receipts, fading rituals, the
Speaker 1: ever present Naomi. Sarah's brows drew together. You should have
Speaker 1: told me sooner, She's said, Worried Jess has seen Naomi
Speaker 1: eluna with different club guys. There's may be more of
Speaker 1: a lap than you'd think. My stomach c lerched is John?
Speaker 1: Do you think Sarah cut me off gently? I don't know, Lee,
Speaker 1: but you're right to trust your gut. Maybe check with
Speaker 1: someone who's around the club all the time, not just Marco's.
Speaker 1: I left the lunch jilden edgy, my forkmark still visible
Speaker 1: in the half finished salad. The walk home was torture,
Speaker 1: every crosswalk echoing with Sarah's voice. I texted Monica, Ben's partner,
Speaker 1: endlessly observant, who rarely missed a club's social Do you
Speaker 1: ever see John a club events lately? He's been so busy?
Speaker 1: A long pause then Monica not really saw him with
Speaker 1: Naielmi once at Luna thought they made a funny pair,
Speaker 1: but honestly, he's not at big group things much any more.
Speaker 1: Everything okay. I left her on red, unable to cry
Speaker 1: for reply. I returned to the condo to find John
Speaker 1: in cycling shorts, spinning on the living room bike. He grinned,
Speaker 1: waving me over. Want to go for a cold ONNT ride.
Speaker 1: I hesitated but nodded, clipping in beside him. We rode
Speaker 1: in silence, side by side. The sound of our computerized
Speaker 1: train is whirring and sink, drowning out every question in
Speaker 1: my head. Afterward, while he stretched, I made dinner for us,
Speaker 1: a ritual of reclaiming togetherness, but he was quiet, scrolling
Speaker 1: through his poe and barely testing the roasted vegetables he
Speaker 1: used to beg for. He thanked me, kissed my templesmatically,
Speaker 1: then retreated to day catch up wickle, which lasted until midnight.
Speaker 1: When I pushed open the door to say good night,
Speaker 1: he spun around quick, minimizing a chat window whose bright
Speaker 1: pink background I glimpsed before it vanished. He snapped at me,
Speaker 1: voice sharp, I said, I'll come to bed. Can you
Speaker 1: let me finish, please? I recoiled, harp pounding. Sorry, didn't
Speaker 1: mean to interrupt. He grunted a poll. Didn't look up again.
Speaker 1: I slipped into bed, eyes burning. This was not suspicion
Speaker 1: any more. It was awaiting game, seeing how much distance
Speaker 1: I could tolerate before admitting the truth. On Tuesday, John
Speaker 1: came home with a new energy, all performed of cheerfulness.
Speaker 1: Really meeting ran late, but I got us pastries, he announced,
Speaker 1: jamming a paper bag on to the counter because us
Speaker 1: were from a bakery he'd maligned for being over a
Speaker 1: price just two weeks before. I thought of the club
Speaker 1: charm in the junk drawer of Luna, of Neaomi's carefully
Speaker 1: casual voice. On the phone. We chewed in silence, each
Speaker 1: of us smuling only with our teeth. When I tried
Speaker 1: to talk about the upcoming weekend, John cut me off.
Speaker 1: Can you not schedule anything for Saturday? I'll probably need
Speaker 1: to rest before race day. We have a strategy meeting
Speaker 1: and then maybe dinner after with the REALLY team, I
Speaker 1: asked quietly. Yeah, the guy said we should cob load,
Speaker 1: he replied quickly, Too quickly. I wipe my fingers on
Speaker 1: my napkin. Which guys, He frowned, You don't know them.
Speaker 1: Most are near brian ethan couple others. I nodded, but
Speaker 1: Neider name sparkled in my memory from club events. Saturday morning,
Speaker 1: I made a show of cleaning out the whole closet
Speaker 1: and accidentally left John's club bag open by his shoes.
Speaker 1: When he passed, I saw his eyes flick down, heavy
Speaker 1: with calculation before he sipped his clothes. My phone buzzed Monica,
Speaker 1: inviting us to drinks. I lighted John's busy with his
Speaker 1: really team, but let us know for next time. Monica
Speaker 1: replied with a telltale ellipsus, then nothing further. John left
Speaker 1: around noon, jimberg across his shoulder team shirt on. As
Speaker 1: soon as the door clicked behind him. I called a
Speaker 1: newbergh and went to Luna. I ordered a coffee, sat
Speaker 1: by the window, and watched rain streaked down the glass,
Speaker 1: muting the city. I recognized Naomi instantly, dark hairpinned up,
Speaker 1: athletic ponytail beneath the club cap, laughing with the bartender.
Speaker 1: At fifteen past one, John walked in. He bent to
Speaker 1: hook her intimate and brief just enough. They sat by
Speaker 1: the far window, heads together over a phone. Their body
Speaker 1: language relaxed, mirrored. When Naomi touched his arm, John didn't
Speaker 1: flinch or look around. I watched them talk for nearly
Speaker 1: an hour. When John finally stood to leave, he hugged
Speaker 1: her again, this time longer, his hand resting at her waist.
Speaker 1: My vision blurb with fury, humiliation, confusion. I pressed my
Speaker 1: forehead against the cold glass to steady myself. I couldn't
Speaker 1: move across the street. John hailed a cap Naomi waving
Speaker 1: the curve of her his mile visible even through the rain.
Speaker 1: My hands shook on my takeaway cup. My mind raced,
Speaker 1: flipping through every time line, every vision, every time he said,
Speaker 1: just trust me. I hubert home before he could return.
Speaker 1: I went through the motion's laundry, organizing my work space.
Speaker 1: A podcast murmuring in the background, but nothing couldrown out
Speaker 1: the image of John in that window, close enough to
Speaker 1: touch some one else. He came home two hours later,
Speaker 1: carrying groceries, snacks for tomorrow, really fuel. His cheerfulness was brittle.
Speaker 1: Long meeting, I asked, oh yeah, he replied, Those new
Speaker 1: guys talk strategy to death. He unpacked the groceries, never
Speaker 1: looking in my direction. I watched as he hid his
Speaker 1: phone in his jeans screen facing his dye. I anger
Speaker 1: welled up so hot I had to leave the room.
Speaker 1: On Sunday morning, in a fit of desperate hope, I
Speaker 1: texted Marcos under a different pretense, thinking of joining the club.
Speaker 1: But schedules confuse me. Whence John usually running these days?
Speaker 1: He answered almost immediately, Honestly, he's not running with us
Speaker 1: much lately, mostly as Jim stuff were hangs with Naomi.
Speaker 1: I think you should ask him directly. His exclamation marks
Speaker 1: out at my heart. I closed the message, blood roaring
Speaker 1: in my ears. My suspicions were not only real, they
Speaker 1: had their own witness. That night, John called into bed,
Speaker 1: hair still damp, fingers cold. I faced the window, clutching
Speaker 1: my pillow. He said, voice tender and artificial. You okay, Lee.
Speaker 1: I bit my tongue so hard it nearly bled. Just tired,
Speaker 1: I whispered. He sighed, wrapped his arm around my hip,
Speaker 1: more out of habit than affection. I stared into the night,
Speaker 1: listening to the creaks of our old pipes, and knew
Speaker 1: that whatever came next, we had crossed a line that
Speaker 1: made returning almost impossible. My well drank. In the days
Speaker 1: that followed, I found myself unable to care about work,
Speaker 1: missing dead lines, staring at my phone during meetings. I
Speaker 1: half listened to Sarah on speaker as she ranted about
Speaker 1: her boss, only dimly registering her concern. When she asked,
Speaker 1: ye sure, okay Ley, I mumbled a promise to take
Speaker 1: better care of myself, already knowing it was a lie.
Speaker 1: The day before the relay, John's routine shifted again. He
Speaker 1: was up before dawn, laying out gare with surgical precision.
Speaker 1: He ran his hand over a new club's shirt, smoothed
Speaker 1: out creases. He hummed under his breath while prepping coffee,
Speaker 1: shooting me a tentive smile that I didn't return. Sarah
Speaker 1: texted again, this time with a group photo from what
Speaker 1: she called the club's pre race pump up. I scanned
Speaker 1: it again and again, no dawn, not even in the background.
Speaker 1: When he came home, sweaty and bright eyed, I handed
Speaker 1: him the phone, Sarah send to Sid all the runners
Speaker 1: made it. He looked quickly, then back at me. Yeah,
Speaker 1: I left before they did. The photo. Needed to stretch
Speaker 1: out old hamstring injury. Remember another bullet point excuse rehearsed
Speaker 1: and sterile. I couldn't even string a reply together. Later,
Speaker 1: as John showered, I opened his laptop one more time.
Speaker 1: I found the same Nebra logs All wrote to overlook
Speaker 1: the address under Naomi's Instagram, then Motoran's actions labeled the
Speaker 1: lunar drinks or recovery. I always between John and Naomi.
Speaker 1: The sound of the shower amplified my resentment. What exactly
Speaker 1: had I been a caretaker, organizer, spouse runner up to
Speaker 1: life I never got to see. When John finally re emerged,
Speaker 1: he found me in the dark, hunched over the kitchen table.
Speaker 1: You are not coming to the relay, he asked a
Speaker 1: carefully neutral tone. Did you want me there? He started,
Speaker 1: then shrugged, playing it off. It's not a spectator thing.
Speaker 1: Next one, for sure, my disappointment was a physical ache, right,
Speaker 1: I said quietly. Next one, after he went to bed,
Speaker 1: I made a decision. I scrolled through my recent photos.
Speaker 1: Found one of the luxury running jacket from the very
Speaker 1: first night. I send it to Brian from the club,
Speaker 1: the one John claimed own it in a direct message.
Speaker 1: HI recognized this, John says, it's yours. It took an
Speaker 1: hour for a reply, Hey, Lee, nice jacket, but not mine.
Speaker 1: Wish it was looks expensive. You sure, he said me,
Speaker 1: one final piece lotted into the empty puzzle. My pulscated
Speaker 1: as I refolded the jacket, hiding it in my bottom
Speaker 1: drawer for the night to keep from flinging it at
Speaker 1: John's sleeping fam Sleep was impossible. I lay awake, tracing
Speaker 1: everything backward, our rituals as shifting, laughter, the gradual weight
Speaker 1: of distance. My mind ran through with Sarah and Monica
Speaker 1: and Marcos had said the way Naomi's voice had celt
Speaker 1: round John's like an old nickname. I realized what I
Speaker 1: was about to do on that I wouldn't be able
Speaker 1: to stop. The next afternoon, I got off work early,
Speaker 1: my body barely aware of traffic, wind, sun, or the
Speaker 1: smell of rain on the pavement. I let myself in
Speaker 1: the condo too, knead, air, thick and silent. I laid
Speaker 1: out the evidence, the running jacket, the credit card, statements,
Speaker 1: the group foreter from Sarah at the screenshot of the Eberlocks.
Speaker 1: I sat at the table with my phone in my
Speaker 1: lap and waited for John to walk in. He arrived
Speaker 1: just after seven, hair damp from another shower Jim Becks
Speaker 1: slung carelessly over his shoulder. He saw me at the
Speaker 1: table and furrows face training of its athletic flush. His
Speaker 1: gaze snapped the layout on the table, four dough statements,
Speaker 1: jacket lined up in order. The facade collapsed for the
Speaker 1: first time in weeks, maybe months. John looked truly afraid.
Speaker 1: He opened his mouth, closed it ran a shaking hand
Speaker 1: through his hair. He didn't move, I said, very calm,
Speaker 1: almost surprised at the steadiness in my tone. Sit down.
Speaker 1: He obeyed, sinking into the chair cross from me, eyes
Speaker 1: fixed somewhere beyond my left shoulder. I let the silence gather.
Speaker 1: If I spoke too soon, I'd break myself apart. So
Speaker 1: I waited, measuring out my next breath, letting the city
Speaker 1: noise from mate stories down frame the hollow of our
Speaker 1: one shared life. He reached for the jacket, fingers brushing
Speaker 1: the blue technical fabric, then recoiling. I spoke quietly, John,
Speaker 1: I know about Naomi. I know about the rides to
Speaker 1: her building, the dinners, the drinks, the runs. He word,
Speaker 1: I talked to Marco's, I talked to Monica. I called Naomi.
Speaker 1: He flinched at that, blinking fast, I pressed, on, voice trembling,
Speaker 1: stop lyind to me, stop making me big for the truth.
Speaker 1: I know space between us. Widen the table a mout
Speaker 1: filled with all his evasions and my half answers. He
Speaker 1: tried first to laugh it off, Lee, Come on, You've
Speaker 1: always had the wildest imagination, Naomi's justice. She's just a friend.
Speaker 1: I shook my head, slid into eber printouts across to him.
Speaker 1: He don't go to a friend's apartment three nights a week, John,
Speaker 1: He don't buy them dinner, drinks, run really strategies in
Speaker 1: the middle of the night. You don't lie to me
Speaker 1: for months. You don't do this. I swept my hand
Speaker 1: over the evidence, my voice catching on the last syllable.
Speaker 1: He looked at the table, hunch breaking out in a
Speaker 1: cold sweat. We're friends, That's all it was. At first.
Speaker 1: I just I needed someone to talk to about work,
Speaker 1: about you, organizing everything, about feeling. He stopped himself feeling
Speaker 1: what I demanded, throat raw like I was suffocating. He muttered,
Speaker 1: shame flickering, and then harden into anger, like I could
Speaker 1: never get it right with you if I didn't do
Speaker 1: everything on your schedule, your terms. Naomi listened, she didn't
Speaker 1: try to fix it all My hands bowled into fists.
Speaker 1: So you just built a different life with her? Was
Speaker 1: that easier? His nostrils flared. No, God, Lee, it wasn't
Speaker 1: like we just talked at first. I swear I kept
Speaker 1: meaning to tell you, but every time I tried, you'd
Speaker 1: just stopped planning things into it. His voice petered out.
Speaker 1: I pressed harder for strumbling but deliberate. Was it just talking?
Speaker 1: He met my gaze, jawel clenched. No, the syllable was
Speaker 1: so soft. I almost missed it. How long? I asked?
Speaker 1: He hesitated, since late spring. It was emotional at first,
Speaker 1: she had a break up, and we'd run and then
Speaker 1: drinks and then lily. I didn't mean for it to
Speaker 1: turn into more. I swear, did you sleep with her?
Speaker 1: I asked, unable to keep the tremmor from my voice.
Speaker 1: He looked away, Yes, twice, first, then more after it
Speaker 1: just happened. I felt my face twist, a sound escaping
Speaker 1: that I wouldn't ever want named. He reached from my hand,
Speaker 1: but I jerked away. His voice tumbled over herself, half sobbing. Please, Lee, Please,
Speaker 1: I fucked up. I know that I just everything felt
Speaker 1: like I was drowning as she pulled me out for
Speaker 1: a minute. I was going to stop it. I swear
Speaker 1: all the anger, the craving for answers left me in
Speaker 1: a sudden wave. I was empty and cold, watching the
Speaker 1: man i'd built my life around drink into someone's more
Speaker 1: and unfamiliar. I can't do this, John, I said, I can't.
Speaker 1: You lie every day you were everything we had. YE
Speaker 1: made me feel crazy for nosing, and you kept me out.
Speaker 1: He shook his head, choking back a sob. Don't go
Speaker 1: give me a chance, Lee, Please, let's go to therapy.
Speaker 1: Let's whatever you want. I'll end. I swear I'll do
Speaker 1: anything you ask. He had a chance to be honest
Speaker 1: before you eraised us. There is nothing left to fix
Speaker 1: because you didn't just make a mistake, you made diss it.
Speaker 1: I gestured to the space between us, the debris of
Speaker 1: our partnership. You did this, not me. He buried his
Speaker 1: face in his hands. I watched the breadth of his
Speaker 1: shoulders boat the man I trusted dissolving in the half
Speaker 1: light of our ruined home. I'm so sorry, Lee, I'm
Speaker 1: so sorry. I didn't know how lonely I was until
Speaker 1: I didn't want to lose you. I shook my head.
Speaker 1: You already did. The words wrenched themselves from the deepest
Speaker 1: part of me. I see incertain. I can't forget this,
Speaker 1: I whispered. I don't even know how to understand. He
Speaker 1: broke every part of us. He reached forward, desperate, his
Speaker 1: hand shook. Please, we could figure it out. You have
Speaker 1: to give me a chance. There was no more fight
Speaker 1: in me, not for this. I count John. I'm leaving
Speaker 1: to night. His jaw slackened in disbelief. Lead no more lies,
Speaker 1: I said, standing, no more explanations. He didn't block the door.
Speaker 1: He didn't plead after that, he just sagged head and hands,
Speaker 1: his body folding in on itself. I packed a small bag,
Speaker 1: keeping my movements quiet, deliberate, not trusting myself to look back.
Speaker 1: I texted Sarah, simple to erect. Can I stay to night?
Speaker 1: Within seconds, I got yes, wine and ice cream ready,
Speaker 1: I've got you. I left John in the condo, shouders
Speaker 1: gathering like old debts, and closed the door on the
Speaker 1: life we built. Half Way down the block, the city
Speaker 1: lights refracted through my tears, the world blurring, but somehow
Speaker 1: still there, solid beneath my feet. In Sarah's entryway. She
Speaker 1: wrapped me up, asking nothing, just letting me shake and
Speaker 1: saw about years of future I'd imagined and lost. I
Speaker 1: texted my parents and his John and I are taking
Speaker 1: time apart. Please respect space. I spent the night on
Speaker 1: Sarah's couch, fallen, buzzing with miss coals from John. I
Speaker 1: muted each one, the ache knife sharp and unavoidable. At dawn,
Speaker 1: I stood by her window, looking out over the city.
Speaker 1: I watched the river catch the morning sun, a thin
Speaker 1: line of gold threading through concrete. The finality of it
Speaker 1: washed over me. I had cut through the lies, the
Speaker 1: rearded routines. There was no going back. I he sent
Speaker 1: John a text, a list of things I'd come for
Speaker 1: while he was out. No plea for reconcilation, just thegistics, enclosure,
Speaker 1: stare and Jess made coffee, sat with me through the silence,
Speaker 1: passing the cream and the sympathy, quietly letting the morning
Speaker 1: grow into a new and frightening shape. Somewhere, our friends
Speaker 1: were already shifting invitations, recalibrated. Alliance is negotiated in hushed tones.
Speaker 1: The first awkward text we rived Monika, gentle and practical.
Speaker 1: Anything you need brunch books, earplugs for the world. I said,
Speaker 1: thank you voice horse that Sunday, I drew on liggings
Speaker 1: and a windbreaker borrowed from Sarah. I worked the river
Speaker 1: path alone, the one John and I used to run together,
Speaker 1: back before betrayals, back when I knew who I was
Speaker 1: in his orbit. The city glittered in front of me,
Speaker 1: shop and unyielding, every building a promise of something yet unrevealed.
Speaker 1: I sat on a river side bench, facing east, hands
Speaker 1: bare in the crispare. I opened my running up the
Speaker 1: one John had insisted our try last Christmas, and deleted it,
Speaker 1: the icon dissolving with a quiet buzz above the water.
Speaker 1: A hero and skimblow. I let the wind take the
Speaker 1: last shreds of his scent from my jacket. I locked
Speaker 1: up coll and certain battered but undeniably my own, and
Speaker 1: for the first time in weeks, I drew a breath
Speaker 1: up longed only to me. Sir's apartment was both a
Speaker 1: haven and a holding cell, her sofa dented under my
Speaker 1: curl to weight, the city beaking through floor to ceiling glass.
Speaker 1: It was only a few blocks from a condo, yet
Speaker 1: felt like another world, entirely and familiar. MoG's a low
Speaker 1: hum of the fridge instead of John's whistling breakfasts. I
Speaker 1: barely ate the chocolate she pressed into my palm, unable
Speaker 1: to muster anything but gratitude for her silent presents, for
Speaker 1: the way she didn't fold the spaces with advice or pity,
Speaker 1: just came home around midnight, tip too him so as
Speaker 1: not to startle me. I heard their whispered confidence, felt
Speaker 1: the warmth of two friends triangulating protection around my shock.
Speaker 1: That first night away, I drifted from shallow sleep to
Speaker 1: sharp wakefulness and back a different couch, new shadows, every
Speaker 1: lift of car headlights across plaster snding my pulse racing.
Speaker 1: I kept the phone silenced on my chest, the miscal's
Speaker 1: badge growing with every hour. John Holme, John mobile chawn
Speaker 1: again and again, as if more darling might reverse something elemental.
Speaker 1: My body swung between real grief relief and the heavy
Speaker 1: dread of imagining him alone in our condo, pacing out
Speaker 1: confused us in rooms I just abandoned. By morning, the
Speaker 1: equas ic heer, more disciplined Sarah in leggings and a
Speaker 1: university sweatshirt, brew black coffee and handed me a mug
Speaker 1: with minimal small talk. I answered her questions about sleep
Speaker 1: with the shake of my head, asked for a WiFi,
Speaker 1: scrolled through messages I couldn't answer from Monica, Ben, even
Speaker 1: John's sister Trina. My inmooks was bruised with other people's worry.
Speaker 1: Late that afternoon, when Sarah went for groceries and Jess
Speaker 1: had seum meetings in a spare room, I walked circles
Speaker 1: in her living room, count to twenty steps from window
Speaker 1: to kitchen, kettle to couch. The urge to call John,
Speaker 1: to hear his voice was a live wire under my skin.
Speaker 1: I kept flipping the phone, checking nothing. There was a
Speaker 1: comfort and routine, even road of meaning. I made my bed,
Speaker 1: stack my shoes, neatly folded last night's pajamas. It all
Speaker 1: felt both pointless and vital, as if control could be
Speaker 1: stitched back together with each practice move. But there was
Speaker 1: no routine for this, no habit that could render betrayal sensible.
Speaker 1: Sarah texted from the corner market, do you want real
Speaker 1: food or just carrot sticks? And anger? I smiled, type,
Speaker 1: surprised me, and put the phone down without pressing send.
Speaker 1: The minutes tracked on her return groceries pumping, I offered
Speaker 1: to help him pack, trying not to wobble. As I
Speaker 1: fared produced to the fridge. I dropped back of spinach,
Speaker 1: curse softly. Sarah put her hand on mine, her voice low,
Speaker 1: You're okay Herely, We've got you. You don't have to
Speaker 1: rush back to anything. Tears down my eyes. I nodded,
Speaker 1: wiping them away with the back of my wrist. That evening,
Speaker 1: I texted John Terres Transactional. I'll come by some things
Speaker 1: when you're at work. Please leave the keys under the mat.
Speaker 1: No reply. I could feel the absence of our passings
Speaker 1: in every inch of myself. I woke at four eh am,
Speaker 1: setting for one confused moment that I'd heard John breathing
Speaker 1: beside me, even the ghost of his cough, the weight
Speaker 1: shift that signaled he was dreaming. I pressed my face
Speaker 1: into the pillow, silent. The friend group's response unfolded like clockwork,
Speaker 1: Monica's string of question marks, Bend's a hay run for
Speaker 1: a call, chess, his gentle offers of distraction at og
Speaker 1: walk capt video screening. Even Sarah, careful a measure, dialed
Speaker 1: back her checkins after sensing I was at the end
Speaker 1: of my rope. But the real world rolled on and
Speaker 1: stopped merciless. MY phone buzz with slack reminders, deliverables due
Speaker 1: a calender filled with campaign launches, headlines taking by in
Speaker 1: bright notification banners. I worked in fits and starts, sometimes
Speaker 1: staring at a single email for ten minutes. Were reading
Speaker 1: sentences while my mind replayed the conversation with John. Slow
Speaker 1: and suffocating. I could fill my grip on normalcy free
Speaker 1: with each hour I refused his calls. Every minute, I
Speaker 1: let anger boil under my skin without a release, Food
Speaker 1: lost its taste. Sleep arrived in Jack's I would pick
Speaker 1: up my phone to text him draft, savage or pleading messages,
Speaker 1: then erase them until only the blank screen glared back.
Speaker 1: The clean break I demanded was paper thin. Pressure swelled everywhere,
Speaker 1: not just between us work, Unsure how to handle a manager,
Speaker 1: gun emotionally awoll started pinging me for deadlines and miss one.
Speaker 1: Campaign clined crutesty when I watched a digital avertation forcing
Speaker 1: Sarah to clean up my mistake late into the night.
Speaker 1: Take a day if you need, Lily, she said after
Speaker 1: the fix. But don't let the rest of your world
Speaker 1: go extinct for him. Let me help buffer it for
Speaker 1: a while. I don't know which part is him. I said,
Speaker 1: the world, the ache for the world. She squeezed my shoulder.
Speaker 1: They're not the same. Let him own his mess for once. Still,
Speaker 1: even with her encouragement, Gil gnawbed me raw. I worried
Speaker 1: I'd left the cat's feeder one notch too low, that
Speaker 1: I'd left John without the first aid kit, dumb things
Speaker 1: to fret over because the rest was too big. I
Speaker 1: wondered if he was eating, if he started sleeping in
Speaker 1: my side of the bed for warmth. Escalation shoppened with
Speaker 1: time's passage. Sarah, ever, the news bearer, reported back that
Speaker 1: John had texted her to ask if she'd heard from me,
Speaker 1: if she'd relay a message. He says, he's sorry. He
Speaker 1: wants to talk when you're ready. He wrote a novel,
Speaker 1: Want to read it? I shook my head, shuddered, No,
Speaker 1: not yet, not Roads to Nowhere. Monica more blunt confronted
Speaker 1: me over lunch. You have to work out what you want.
Speaker 1: He's a mess. You don't know him, a damn thing.
Speaker 1: I chewed my host and stayed silent, the truth thrumming
Speaker 1: in my chest. Meanwhile, John's messages became less frequent, but
Speaker 1: no less pointed a brief emal you left your running
Speaker 1: head lamp, another photo of my rain jacket on its
Speaker 1: hook caption still here. There was a desperation in these messages,
Speaker 1: search for normality. The logistics of what to split and
Speaker 1: what to keep each were derived, heavy with undertones or
Speaker 1: you coming back? Is this real? Can you forgive me?
Speaker 1: For each message? I felt the cosmount, the sense that
Speaker 1: even my absence tethered to both of us, to the past,
Speaker 1: kept us circling back. The consequence is multiply. I tried
Speaker 1: to enter the condo nearly afternoon, backs lung over my shoulder,
Speaker 1: keys chilly from the planter. I planned to move quickly,
Speaker 1: grab my cycling shoes, toiletries, a few books leave no
Speaker 1: motional finger print. But the sound of John's voice, muffled
Speaker 1: from his home office, froze me in place. His laugh,
Speaker 1: earnest and aching drifted under the door. I heard him chatting,
Speaker 1: maybe to a client, maybe a friend, laying on the
Speaker 1: professional chair. I stood there, hand on the door knob,
Speaker 1: unable to breathe. At the sight of me, he jerked upright.
Speaker 1: There was a beat, Both of us in the foyer,
Speaker 1: the scand of lemon cleaner and something rour unamable, before
Speaker 1: he murmured lee. I kept my head down, hot rattling,
Speaker 1: just getting my things. I'll be quick. He didn't move,
Speaker 1: didn't try to stop me. Do you want to talk?
Speaker 1: I shook my head, anger rising, unwilling to grant him
Speaker 1: the comfort of my voice. I darted into the hall closet,
Speaker 1: snatching up my coat, my shoes, an armful of bookspine
Speaker 1: smooth against my palms. Everywhere I looked, evident of our
Speaker 1: entwined lives. Blinked up at me. Twin mugs from the
Speaker 1: ski trip, the photo booth, strip of ol lopside of grins,
Speaker 1: the cheak kitchen scale I had insisted on buying. I whirled,
Speaker 1: distilled to objects that now burn my fingers. You can
Speaker 1: take whatever you need, he said, softly, standing in the
Speaker 1: kitchen entryway, hands on the counter. A simple sentence, but
Speaker 1: it shredded me. I turned, couldn't help but look at him.
Speaker 1: He looked drawn, older, dear, growing in ragged eyes, circled
Speaker 1: with dalbin and spoken apologies. He wore the club t shirt,
Speaker 1: another ord and he cost him, rendered sinister by what
Speaker 1: had been done in it? Do you need anything else?
Speaker 1: He murmured after a moment, voice hoarse from me. I
Speaker 1: wanted to scream yes, answers, closure, a time machine, but
Speaker 1: all I said was no. Then before I could falter,
Speaker 1: I bent to collect my drop. Scoff walked past him
Speaker 1: into the hall. I'm so sorry, Lee, he choked, and
Speaker 1: for a second I nearly looked back, but I didn't.
Speaker 1: I pressed the elevator button, and when the doors closed,
Speaker 1: collapsed against the cold steel wall. I slumped down, pressing
Speaker 1: my forehead to my knees. The hallway outside Sarah's apartment
Speaker 1: reaked a spicy takeout and dogfair. I let myself in,
Speaker 1: dumped everything at the door, and sank into the shower,
Speaker 1: scrubbing away the scent of lemon and memory. I stood
Speaker 1: until the water turned cold, until there was nothing left
Speaker 1: to clean. Word drifted through the group quickly. Sarah's kind,
Speaker 1: neutral phrasing of Lee and John are working through things,
Speaker 1: don't pry the dicks shifted from concern to ordance. Monica
Speaker 1: offered a movie night to you just watched something light.
Speaker 1: Ben sent a gift of a kitten knocking over a bowl.
Speaker 1: Only Sarah stayed close orbiting with patience, refusing to let
Speaker 1: me vanish entirely, but the wider coss began to land anyway.
Speaker 1: My mothercal to voice trembling, careful not to ask what happened,
Speaker 1: but to check how I was safe. If I needed
Speaker 1: a plan take it out. I said no, and she
Speaker 1: didn't press, but I could hear the disappointment disguised as werer.
Speaker 1: Worse was John's mother at art formal text. If you
Speaker 1: want to tell your side, please call the implicate. There
Speaker 1: were sides now made my stomach twist. At work, where
Speaker 1: it got around despite my best efforts. A meeting with
Speaker 1: my boss parsed every angle of family emergency to her
Speaker 1: eyes kind, her voice professional, but the subjects there. Your
Speaker 1: work is off. My patience won't last forever. Pressure hall
Speaker 1: marked every day, making even the smallest mistake fel catastrophic.
Speaker 1: All the while, John receded from my daily universe, but
Speaker 1: roared in my head, his law echoing in places it
Speaker 1: never belonged. His voice crowded the silence after the others
Speaker 1: had gone to bed. The final escalation came three days later,
Speaker 1: when I received an envelope as there's placed John's handwriting
Speaker 1: sharp on the front. Inside was a handwritten the letter
Speaker 1: crumpled as though were written many times. It broke the
Speaker 1: dam I'd built against his voice in my head, Lee,
Speaker 1: there aren't enough words to scrape out what I owe you.
Speaker 1: I know you probably won't read this, or if you do,
Speaker 1: you won't want to answer. You're right, Allied, You're right.
Speaker 1: I created a whole world away from us. Naomi wasn't
Speaker 1: just a mistake. She was a break in me, a
Speaker 1: coward's way of hiding from feeling less than in my
Speaker 1: own home. But you deserve to hear the truth. And
Speaker 1: if it only serves to let you finally hate me,
Speaker 1: I wish I could say I didn't realize what I
Speaker 1: was losing, but I did. That's why I didn't stop.
Speaker 1: Not because it was worth it, but because part of
Speaker 1: me thought, if you ever really saw me MESSI, we
Speaker 1: can't lose you anyway. I'm sorry for every minute I
Speaker 1: made you doubt yourself. I am sorrier than I will
Speaker 1: ever be able to say. Please, let someone love you
Speaker 1: like you deserve. If you need anything, let me know,
Speaker 1: no questions. I'll go, I'll disappear. I will do what
Speaker 1: you need. Dawn. I sat on the floor of Sarah's entrueway,
Speaker 1: with the latter bold in my fest, a glacier of
Speaker 1: rage and hot break running down my arms. I wanted
Speaker 1: to reply, to obliterate, or forget, to cry on the
Speaker 1: phone with him, to beg for an explanation that would
Speaker 1: make sense, but emotions played in every direction, no path forward,
Speaker 1: just white noise. Jess passing quietly saw my face and
Speaker 1: simply pulled me against her side, no questions After the latter,
Speaker 1: the silence thickened, Days melted into one another, e mails,
Speaker 1: phone calls, and explode with a haze of distraction and avoidance.
Speaker 1: I scoirted old routine, warped an extra block to avoid
Speaker 1: the bakery. John and I used to haunt ghost of
Speaker 1: mutual friends for fear of Stepy's updates, map broughts through
Speaker 1: the city by where I might least likely cross him.
Speaker 1: The world shrank but lost a man's reckoning. Even as
Speaker 1: I tried to outrun my pain, life pressed me forward.
Speaker 1: Sarah needed a space back for out of town guests.
Speaker 1: My boss circled another compassionate leave on my calendar. My
Speaker 1: in books bled on red reminders. There was no dignified
Speaker 1: waist all time that Sunday, on the cusp of spring.
Speaker 1: The escalation culminated with one last decision reclaim what needed
Speaker 1: of claiming my life, my body, my voice, I texted John,
Speaker 1: my tone as neutral as possible. I need to come
Speaker 1: get the remainder of my things. Please leave the apartment
Speaker 1: for the morning tomorrow. I'll be gone by noon, he
Speaker 1: replied within minutes. Of course, I'll be out till too.
Speaker 1: Let me know if you need anything. For the first time,
Speaker 1: his words didn't make my heart twist, they sounded like steps. Proceeding.
Speaker 1: At nine on Monday, I unlocked the condor, my code
Speaker 1: still remembered by the security system, pausing in the empty
Speaker 1: lobby before stepping into what was left of our home.
Speaker 1: There was no trace of John, no scent, no shoes
Speaker 1: by the door, or his coffee gear packed away. It
Speaker 1: looked emptier, the lack of clottter giving every shadow extra weight.
Speaker 1: I moved through the rooms, deliberately, packing box after box
Speaker 1: of what was an The Nobly Mind cycling gear, my
Speaker 1: half of the kitchen gadgets, the navy park I wore
Speaker 1: for years of winter commutes, old books annotated withinside jokes.
Speaker 1: I left most of the wedding gifts and shared mementos,
Speaker 1: anything within us, stitched into his corners each time they hesitated.
Speaker 1: I forced myself to imagine ever returning to make clean decisions.
Speaker 1: I entered the bedroom last the sight of our crisis,
Speaker 1: and before that, our sanctuery. The wall calendar was turned
Speaker 1: to a blank mount. No joint goals, no running club meets,
Speaker 1: just pencil scratchings of appointments and reminders I no longer needed.
Speaker 1: I found John's jacket, neatly folded by the foot of
Speaker 1: the bed. It was the luxury blue one, still faintly
Speaker 1: scented floral rom My hands trembled as I placed it
Speaker 1: into the final box, not mine, not even his, but
Speaker 1: the symbol of what had broken us. I pressed the
Speaker 1: lid down, not caring what he did with it. Now,
Speaker 1: as the morning wore on the practicalities of leaving overtook heartbreak, distowels, chargers, noaks,
Speaker 1: I kept my movements business like, resisting any urge to
Speaker 1: linger or linger over what had once made a space mine.
Speaker 1: I took one last weep for anything missed, stopping only
Speaker 1: at the living room window for a moment, a private
Speaker 1: good bye to the city from this vandage a sky
Speaker 1: lime we'd claimed as ours. I whispered nothing but traced
Speaker 1: my finger across the cold glass, A memory surrendered. Just afternoon,
Speaker 1: I wheeled the last box into the hall, double locked
Speaker 1: the door, placed the spare keys in an envelope label
Speaker 1: to for John, and slid it under the mat. On
Speaker 1: my way down in the elevator, I allowed myself to
Speaker 1: cry quiet contained tea slippery but finee. I dabbed them
Speaker 1: away with my sleep, before stepping into the lobby and
Speaker 1: Outice Err, waiting idly by the cub in her cart.
Speaker 1: The trunk propped open and gentle invitation, we loaded the
Speaker 1: boxes in silence, work side by side, her touch, practical patient.
Speaker 1: With the trunk shut, I slid into the passenger seat
Speaker 1: and let myself be driven away from the building that
Speaker 1: had been my home. There was relief on the other
Speaker 1: side of Hartbrick. I could feel the pinch of it,
Speaker 1: sharp as colder. Freedom glimmer, but so did the egg
Speaker 1: of absence. For now, the only thing left to do
Speaker 1: was carry myself forward, one step at time, into a
Speaker 1: world I no longer had to share. We drove with
Speaker 1: up music. Sarah's fingers tapped the steering wheel and a
Speaker 1: half conscious rhythm as stoplights blinked as her neighborhoods I
Speaker 1: barely noticed on corners runners moved in comp's bright shorts, focus, breathing,
Speaker 1: the kind of sight that used a pulse with camaraderie
Speaker 1: for me, now just another pattern I no longer recognized.
Speaker 1: Sarah parallel parked outside her building, but didn't move to
Speaker 1: get out. She gone sideways, uncertainty written in the pinch
Speaker 1: of her bra You hungry, as she asked, I could
Speaker 1: see her holding the more urgent questions back lighting the
Speaker 1: once about him EMI and what would come next? Settle
Speaker 1: into silence. I shook my head, managed maybe later there
Speaker 1: was a comfort in her patience, the un spectacular kind
Speaker 1: that undergoes real friendship. The logistics of moving began to
Speaker 1: take over my boxes, formed a crookedogist. Inside her living room,
Speaker 1: I sorted through the top one for clean clothes, feeling
Speaker 1: the many weeks of clinging cat hair from our sover absurd, irrelevant,
Speaker 1: But I found myself running a lint roller over each sleeve,
Speaker 1: as if cleanliness would grant some sense of control. Sarah
Speaker 1: putter in the background, making tea, tidying a gentle background
Speaker 1: hum that evening it rain in ernest for the first
Speaker 1: time in weeks. I sat by Sarah's window, knees to
Speaker 1: my chest, watching streaks of water slice the city's glow
Speaker 1: into uneven ribbons. There was a sense so low, persistent,
Speaker 1: except John was also somewhere near a window, maybe even
Speaker 1: tracing the same outline of falling water, each of us
Speaker 1: touching the edges of the same pane from opposite sides
Speaker 1: of its scene. Over the next day, as I tried
Speaker 1: to stitch something like a new rhythm for myself, John's
Speaker 1: presence loitered at the periphery of my world. He sent
Speaker 1: only one message that morning, boxes made at home, thank
Speaker 1: you for coming. While I was gone, polite, formal, somehow
Speaker 1: lonelier than any apology, the practicality swarmed. I paid for
Speaker 1: a set of mail redirections, entered my address change into
Speaker 1: work's clunky HR portal, routed bills and magazine subscriptions to
Speaker 1: Sarah's placed temporarily. When I texted Monicatsque for a cycling
Speaker 1: wrap we used to ride together, she wrote back more
Speaker 1: gently than I expected. Miss you out there up for
Speaker 1: a ride. Scene people recalibrated around the absence nobody asked
Speaker 1: if there was a chance reconciliation, as if the shape
Speaker 1: of this brick was already clear. John stayed silent, except
Speaker 1: for a few last business like exchanges utility Cuthoff's agreement
Speaker 1: on sputting our security deposit. His messages lost all texture,
Speaker 1: the emptiness between high Lee and his name. At the
Speaker 1: end of oid, I didn't try to cross what I
Speaker 1: didn't anticipate on What slowly unfolded over those next days
Speaker 1: was the shifting feeling in myself. At the condo, I
Speaker 1: felt hunted by his memory, But outside the stillness was different,
Speaker 1: emptier but cleanet, like a word spoken honesty. Even when
Speaker 1: aert I started sleeping a little, sometimes for several hours
Speaker 1: at a stretch, Food regained aspect, flavor returned gradually, like
Speaker 1: the body relearning what hunger was. I launched myself into small,
Speaker 1: manageable tasks, dry cleaning, scheduling, long over geo medical appointments,
Speaker 1: going into the office one afternoon. Each action, simple on
Speaker 1: its own, reinforced that life would keep accumulating days withal
Speaker 1: without my full co operation. Still, no matter how efficient
Speaker 1: were distracted, I stayed. The rude emotion under everything was
Speaker 1: a kind of exposed loneliness or wound, without even the
Speaker 1: comfort of fresh anger, only a dull pounding in its place.
Speaker 1: One afternoon, returning to Sarah's from an ill advised fory
Speaker 1: into the club's public instagram, I found John's running watch
Speaker 1: in the bottom of one of my boxes. It must
Speaker 1: have tumbled him with the pile of tech charges and
Speaker 1: half dead batteries. I picked it up heavy in my palm,
Speaker 1: a solid artifact of our mutual life at If, I said,
Speaker 1: spent countless. I was coveting, comparing my less advanced model
Speaker 1: against For an irrational moment, I almost considered meeting him
Speaker 1: to return it, to say one uncomplicated thing in person,
Speaker 1: but I couldn't. I sent a text of found your watch.
Speaker 1: We'll leave with building dorman next time out. He replied,
Speaker 1: thank you. No pleasantry, no spark, just duty. That night,
Speaker 1: I lay on Saara's guest pull out, rolling the watch
Speaker 1: between my hands. It was scratched at the edges, the
Speaker 1: strap faintly fragrant with the detergent we both used, remnants
Speaker 1: of hundreds of mundane shared mornings. I wanted to flain
Speaker 1: it out the window or deliver it to John's hand,
Speaker 1: just to see his face break at the sight of it,
Speaker 1: but I resisted impulse and instead, sitting in a pouch,
Speaker 1: another game piece of closure moved into the right column. Small,
Speaker 1: sharper minded sparkled Throughout the week, my gym membership registered
Speaker 1: under both our names, paining me. For John's late evening
Speaker 1: check in, I called to remove his tag, knowing he
Speaker 1: probably already done the same. A delivery service rofunded two
Speaker 1: of our meal kit orders, the automatic emails landing in
Speaker 1: both imbooks as useless, clumsy echoes. Even the digital wald
Speaker 1: seemed sluggish in erasing the thust that had once been
Speaker 1: so all consuming. One morning, Sarah found me at the counter,
Speaker 1: lapped up open to a blank email draft addressed to
Speaker 1: John subject line. She sat beside me silent a moment,
Speaker 1: then said, you don't have to be perfect right Nowtly,
Speaker 1: you just have to get through. I closed the laptop.
Speaker 1: There was nothing left to explain. Late that week, parcels
Speaker 1: of our split lives trickled through. John forwarded a stray
Speaker 1: insurance document with a post it in his handwriting you yours.
Speaker 1: I think for one vertage in a second, I saw
Speaker 1: the shape of our marriage, and those three brief words.
Speaker 1: Once everything belonged to us together, Now every item needed reassignment.
Speaker 1: A few times I walked by our old building, more
Speaker 1: out of inertias and desire. From the street, I could
Speaker 1: see the eighth floor windows, the ghost of a life
Speaker 1: that was suddenly just architecture and chatter. I wondered if
Speaker 1: John was inside, or if he'd found it so feeqally exiled,
Speaker 1: haunting on familiar spaces as I did now. That Friday evening,
Speaker 1: Monica taxed to two words, river path. She knew what
Speaker 1: it would mean now, all running rount the one John
Speaker 1: and I had claimed, first as rivals and then as partners.
Speaker 1: My first instinct was to invent an excuse. Instead, I
Speaker 1: answered yes, meet near the dock at seven. I laced
Speaker 1: up sneakers that felt nearly new from this use, sept
Speaker 1: my windbreakers aiers now, and met Monica at dusk at
Speaker 1: the river front. We didn't talk about John. We talked
Speaker 1: pacing and shallow breathing, and tried to beat personal records
Speaker 1: that didn't quite matter anymore. Monica let our elbows brush
Speaker 1: at crosswalks, occasionally cracking a joke, and for a few
Speaker 1: blocks I led a rhythm of being alive, just present,
Speaker 1: push the egg to the horizon. Half way out, we
Speaker 1: slowed Monica down to match my own steady stride across
Speaker 1: the water. The shadowed city skyline reflected pale light, every
Speaker 1: surface slicked from storms earlier that day. Monica paused at
Speaker 1: a bench of recognized one John and I had always
Speaker 1: claimed as our spot for post run stretching, deep conversations, or,
Speaker 1: in the old days, minor argument settlements. I hesitated, but
Speaker 1: Monica just sat and nodded for me to join. I
Speaker 1: lowered myself, wiped my brow, breath ragged but steady. For
Speaker 1: a stretch, we just watched the river slide by, dark, unreadable, ceaseless.
Speaker 1: I felt my pul slow, the familiar eke in Macow's
Speaker 1: promising new pain in the morning. Monica, sensing something in
Speaker 1: my stillness, finally murmured, it's going to keep outing for
Speaker 1: a while. That doesn't mean it's wrong. I nodded. No
Speaker 1: words were needed. The city spung gently around us, ignorant
Speaker 1: ar caring of the disaster. I'd left just streets away
Speaker 1: on the way home. Monica and I parted at the corner.
Speaker 1: I walked the remaining blocks alone, passing stor fronts, one
Speaker 1: by one until my own reflection caught in the glassholder.
Speaker 1: Exhausted but unbroken, I lingered for a second, almost surprised
Speaker 1: by the woman looking back back at Sara's buccanetius. Before midnight,
Speaker 1: I looked north, where the skylined limited against navy shadows.
Speaker 1: I thought of John, wondered whether he was running or sleeping,
Speaker 1: or staring bleakly at a different still space. I let
Speaker 1: myself remember his apology, the note trampling in my pocket,
Speaker 1: and forced myself to accept the finality of the gap
Speaker 1: between them us. He couldn't refill it with regret, and
Speaker 1: I couldn't refill it by looking backward. My thoughts tilted forward.
Speaker 1: Not hope, not yet, but since that something you might
Speaker 1: eventually be possible, that the world might grow large again,
Speaker 1: with space to run, to breathe on my own, I
Speaker 1: lead the next morning before Sarah Oh just stirred. I
Speaker 1: pulled on my leggings, tied my shoes, and gently closed
Speaker 1: the apartment door behind me. The SIZEA was still blue
Speaker 1: and empty, the sun barely a roomor behind the cloudy horizon.
Speaker 1: The streets smelled of rain and burst magnolia pedals. My
Speaker 1: feet struck the wet pavement, steady, sure. I walked to
Speaker 1: the river alone, tracing old ruts until habit faded and
Speaker 1: instinct took over. Runners streamed by, faces open, closed, intent
Speaker 1: on their own metrics and music. I moved at my
Speaker 1: own pace, no one to match but myself. At the
Speaker 1: familiar bend in the path, the benchmark and I had
Speaker 1: cleaned the night before it, I stopped that close, my eyes,
Speaker 1: pressed my palms together in the warmy air for a
Speaker 1: long moment. I let the sounds of the river, at
Speaker 1: the slow breathing of the city, the dull clatter of
Speaker 1: a world enable to stop for heart break, full every
Speaker 1: sense around me. I fambled on runs, passed, birds scattered awake,
Speaker 1: A couple left over ticket boxes as they ready to
Speaker 1: a river side picic. Nothing had changed except me and partnered, unmowered,
Speaker 1: knew in my own skin, waiting for whatever small freedom
Speaker 1: or sorrow would come next. I pulled out my phone,
Speaker 1: thumb hovering over the running ap John had convinced me
Speaker 1: to use Lost December. The icon glared up brighter than
Speaker 1: I remembered. I pressed until at wobble, then deleted it,
Speaker 1: letting it dissolve when last tie left to manage. I exhaled, lungs, expanding,
Speaker 1: eyes tracing the river's restless line toward the morning sun.
Speaker 1: Then I looked up and, for the first time in
Speaker 1: week's drew a breath that was truly, unconditionally my own