Speaker 1: Seattle rain is not just a drizzle as a presence
Speaker 1: that patters at the windows, dampens the porch, gives shape
Speaker 1: to the silence between people. Sunday nights in our house
Speaker 1: used to be the canterweight to the gray witness string
Speaker 1: light on the patio, Max's Rook's laugh booming over everyone else,
Speaker 1: pulls passed around, bottles popped up, and the little rituals
Speaker 1: that made home feel more than walls. But to night.
Speaker 1: As I balance a stack of plates in my arms,
Speaker 1: I can tell everyone is eager to scatter, Samuel, especially
Speaker 1: he spent a meal watching his phone, swiping at notifications
Speaker 1: with the distracted friend I've started counting on. Megan squeezes
Speaker 1: my elbow as she helps very empty glasses to the
Speaker 1: kitchen and murmurs he'll rell act soon. It's just work,
Speaker 1: m I not smiling tight, but my eyes flicking voluntarily
Speaker 1: through the archery to where Samuel stands over the entry table,
Speaker 1: thun tracing the edge of his phone, waiting for a
Speaker 1: message or maybe a reason. Max lingers in the living
Speaker 1: room doorway, swirling his beer and grinning at Samuel. You
Speaker 1: heading out again, man, You must have some kind of
Speaker 1: death wish riding in this weather. Samuel shrugs on his
Speaker 1: waterproof jacket, gaze on the floor. Ye buys soft. It's
Speaker 1: fine once he get moving. Max raises an eyebrow. Even
Speaker 1: with Jamie along. What's his phrase? It's all a mental game.
Speaker 1: That new guy is funnier. Then he looks. He winks
Speaker 1: at me, suddenly aware that I'm listening and may be
Speaker 1: less amused than I should be. Samuel glances at me,
Speaker 1: but only for an eno second. I told you I
Speaker 1: ride alone these days. Groups been too unpredictable. His tongue
Speaker 1: carries too much force for such a mundane correction, and
Speaker 1: that makes my stomach squeeze. I watch, half expecting him
Speaker 1: to add something mentioned a rat a time, a plausible destruction.
Speaker 1: He just stands there, sipper half pulled. There's a moment
Speaker 1: while every one exchange see you next Week's the kind
Speaker 1: of group hug that is more ritual than real. Samuel
Speaker 1: pressing my shoulder as he passes no eye contact. I
Speaker 1: don't wait up, he says, voice of hand. I'll probably
Speaker 1: see you in the morning. I pile plates under running water,
Speaker 1: hands moving automatically, but my head is replaying small things.
Speaker 1: How he didn't eat dessert the way he tensed when
Speaker 1: Max brought up Jamie, that impulsive laugh that ended too fast.
Speaker 1: I tell myself theso tiny, but something flutters at the
Speaker 1: edge of my mind. Iernez a note slightly off key.
Speaker 1: I rinse a glass and watched the water stripe down
Speaker 1: my knuckles while I about such an innocent thing. Riding
Speaker 1: solo group ride, new people joining. The details shouldn't matter,
Speaker 1: not unless something's changed and he doesn't want me to know.
Speaker 1: I dry my hands, staring into the dark at the
Speaker 1: end of our block, where Samuel's day light still glimmers red.
Speaker 1: For a second, thin disappears. I almost call him back
Speaker 1: to say something stupid, liked be safe, but the words
Speaker 1: die inside me. Instead. I spend the rest of the
Speaker 1: evening pretending and cleaning, while really just waiting for a
Speaker 1: clee that will set my mind at ease. But nothing comes,
Speaker 1: and the house fells back up with the sound of
Speaker 1: the rain and the windows. In the beginning, back before
Speaker 1: the overtime, before the careful budgeting, before late ride at all,
Speaker 1: Samuel and I met over a spill latte and an
Speaker 1: endless onboarding slideshow. I didn't want to be at platform
Speaker 1: Science's networking breakfast. He made me want to stay. We
Speaker 1: were both twenty six, both running on ambition and caffeine,
Speaker 1: drawn to each other by the simple fact that we
Speaker 1: saw the same phizzes of potential in each new event,
Speaker 1: each new project. It started with a running joke about
Speaker 1: our boss's misuse of synergy and became beers, a firm
Speaker 1: and brewing, then group trivia, then movie nights and Sundays
Speaker 1: of pipe Place. By New Year's we'd moved in together.
Speaker 1: That summer we eloped. I'll look back now and think
Speaker 1: it was the sweetest kind of collapse, two smart people
Speaker 1: barreling together because we believed we could up paste the world.
Speaker 1: The years since field dense, no wasted space. The old
Speaker 1: studio on Queen Anne, our first real home out here,
Speaker 1: with the porch in the back yard, big enough for
Speaker 1: a second Tangrille. Samuel, for all his charm, always going
Speaker 1: for the big gestures, filling the gaps with stories, the
Speaker 1: guy who could make any room warm about twenty degrees
Speaker 1: Mia Pana, the one who double checks the reservations, orders,
Speaker 1: the groceries, sets the alarms. It worked. We had motion direction.
Speaker 1: We respected each other's drive and when things got rough
Speaker 1: after Samuel's first start up Nosdov and our savings turned
Speaker 1: to lint. We shouldered through arman arm That struggle honestly
Speaker 1: made things more solid. Samuel hated being the one needing support,
Speaker 1: but once I got him laughing again, as shame faded,
Speaker 1: we had rules, talk about money, don't let secrets build
Speaker 1: check in. We kept busy, khaking week ends when we
Speaker 1: could quiet movie nights with laptops, open, regulous Sunday dinners
Speaker 1: with Max and Megan and a rotating cast of others.
Speaker 1: My own family is far away, mamma married by brother,
Speaker 1: drifting somewhere on the East Coast. But I made a
Speaker 1: home with Samuel's people. Our world is a network close friends,
Speaker 1: mutual respect, the kind of stability I never quite have
Speaker 1: growing up. Money isn't limitless, but we're careful. I track
Speaker 1: our finances half out of habit, half out of necessity.
Speaker 1: I can almost hear Samuel teasing me spreadsheet dam the
Speaker 1: chick of Queen. But lately I notice the cracks, more
Speaker 1: subtle coldness. When Samuel comes in from a ride. The
Speaker 1: way he's glued to his phone even when we are eating,
Speaker 1: as if waiting for a message more important than our
Speaker 1: table talk. I seem at first it's some new pressure
Speaker 1: at work. Samuel's firm has been through layoffs and poured
Speaker 1: up launches and those endless weeks where no one can
Speaker 1: quite go home on time. It's just the rhythm. I
Speaker 1: tell myself, this is what happens when you're both trying
Speaker 1: to get head. But then I catch myself watching the patents,
Speaker 1: extended time in the shower after those rise a deliberate
Speaker 1: privacy that feels new. I remind myself. We survived rougher patches,
Speaker 1: we built this, survived the hard years. Maybe trust is
Speaker 1: a muscle to one that needs to be flexed, not preserved.
Speaker 1: A number I want to believe that I really do.
Speaker 1: Samuel's late rides turned from the occasional to the routine Tuesday, Thursday,
Speaker 1: sometimes Sunday after dinner, each time with a version of
Speaker 1: the same excusa just to clear my mind. I laugh
Speaker 1: along when he says the rain makes him feel invincible,
Speaker 1: but there's something performative about his delivery. His old cycling
Speaker 1: friends texts now and then a join us or were
Speaker 1: you at to night? Message? As see flash on the
Speaker 1: screen when he thinks I'm not looking. I offer to
Speaker 1: join him sometimes, remember when we used to do Green
Speaker 1: Lake loops as a date and he brushes me off
Speaker 1: an art and night's not a good one. You don't
Speaker 1: want this weather. His phone wants a shared open object,
Speaker 1: begins to vanish into his pocket or desk's drawer with
Speaker 1: almost comic precision. When he's home, it sits face down,
Speaker 1: never charging in the kitchen like it used to. A
Speaker 1: new lock screen appears to Stu dances over it quickly
Speaker 1: if he thinks I'm close. One Thursday, as I'm tidying
Speaker 1: the living room, my phone buzzes. It's a text for
Speaker 1: Max wildhill climb to night. Jamie almost wiped out. Sam
Speaker 1: saved his ass. Ye, guys, mister show. I stare at
Speaker 1: the message. Away Jamie go gets tucked in as if
Speaker 1: I'm already supposed to know all about him. When Samuel
Speaker 1: comes in that night later than usual, cheeks flush wain
Speaker 1: dripping from his jacket. I mentioned the hill climb in
Speaker 1: Max's text? Did you guys really have as much fun
Speaker 1: as it sounded? I watch his face, The shuffle in
Speaker 1: his eyes wasn't there? Max must be confused. I took
Speaker 1: the arbor at a loop when Solo needed the alone time,
Speaker 1: He takes off his shoes with care lines. The map
Speaker 1: doesn't look directly at me. As he heads to the shower,
Speaker 1: the smell of cold, sweat and rain fills the hallway.
Speaker 1: A b m overthinking, bored people invent drums right, Samuel's
Speaker 1: always hated feeling my cromanage and was an other anxious
Speaker 1: one during that awful start up collapse, seeing signs where
Speaker 1: there weren't any, making him feel watched. Maybe this is
Speaker 1: that again? Only why does he have to lie about
Speaker 1: a group rye? Is he embarrassed? Is Jamie a sore subject?
Speaker 1: Or worse as the whole thing? Some cover? No one
Speaker 1: cheats over hill climbs, But you can't be this careful
Speaker 1: about nothing. That night, I fall into a spiral scrolling
Speaker 1: through right times on samuel Strava, matching his claim routes
Speaker 1: to this posted by his friends and so, and whether
Speaker 1: I should be proud to find evidence that he's just
Speaker 1: really into biking or ashamed for even eating? To check.
Speaker 1: Sunday morning arrives slate and cold. Samuel's it threw his routines,
Speaker 1: coffee cluttering his helmet on the counter checking his rear
Speaker 1: light a poor cereal until bowl and glance up. What
Speaker 1: route to day? He shrugs, not quite meeting my eye.
Speaker 1: Just out East Wooden volup. Probably solo, No one else
Speaker 1: is crazy enough to day. I nod. But a few
Speaker 1: minutes later, when I switch on my laptop to tackle
Speaker 1: some lingering work, I tap open the group chat. There's
Speaker 1: a string of photos uploaded by Megan. The crew grinning
Speaker 1: behind fogged up sunglasses, bike stuck in river mud, Samuel's
Speaker 1: helmet squarely in the foregroned Jamie features twice a curly
Speaker 1: haired redhead of never actually met, apparently making finger guns
Speaker 1: at the camera. Samuel beside him, both grinning like it.
Speaker 1: It's Max chimes in, tagging me wish you to were here.
Speaker 1: Jamie took a spill, sam some kind of hero pulled
Speaker 1: him out like an action movie a scroll back pulse.
Speaker 1: Jumbie wasn't Samuel supposed to be riding solo away from
Speaker 1: the group. Had he said he left after one lap?
Speaker 1: Were implied he never met up at all. I think
Speaker 1: through the last week, his schedule, those quick escapes, his
Speaker 1: tendency to disappear into the show before talking the new
Speaker 1: cycling gear that started appearing at home, the expensive jersey
Speaker 1: hunted right tags still attached a gift from the shop,
Speaker 1: Samuel claimed. At brunch it comes up again. Megan sets
Speaker 1: down her mimosa and says, I swear Samuel and Jamie
Speaker 1: are basically attached at the hip. They training for something
Speaker 1: or just in love with punishment. This easy laughter. But Samuel,
Speaker 1: who's worked in from a phone call, let's the seam
Speaker 1: of a smile start before moving to clear the table.
Speaker 1: Now just log in, myles, he says, voice low. Later,
Speaker 1: in the privacy of the guest room, as I fold
Speaker 1: laundry away, I message Max in a joking tone, be
Speaker 1: real hawfen O Sam and Jamie hanging out? He says
Speaker 1: he's going solo. Max writes back after a minute, I've
Speaker 1: almost always together lately, thought you knew, and Sam set
Speaker 1: up Strava group for them. Jamie's ride. He makes Sam
Speaker 1: take breaks rather than always crushing hills. All good, I replied,
Speaker 1: something neutral. Samuel passes in the hall, looking at his phone,
Speaker 1: looking at me, looking away. Breyness creeps in at the
Speaker 1: edges of our routine. Samuel's begins snapping at me for
Speaker 1: no reason. When I ask which nights he'll be out.
Speaker 1: He accuses me of keeping tabs, his tone too sharp
Speaker 1: for the question asked. He spends Sunday afternoon's planning routes,
Speaker 1: but the laptop screen flips closed as soon as I
Speaker 1: entered the room. Once he goes up and leaves as
Speaker 1: I pad on, a notification pops up. Jamie has sent
Speaker 1: a meme depicting a guy falling spectacularly off a bike.
Speaker 1: There's a caption you after two pints at the bar.
Speaker 1: Next time you're buying the banter is affectionate inside Joki
Speaker 1: commentary looping back days, Samuel never mentioned I screen cap
Speaker 1: out of habit, then feel shamed. I don't want to
Speaker 1: become the sort of person who checks their patner's devices.
Speaker 1: But small things add up. Samuel's new water bottle has
Speaker 1: Jade's sharpened on to the bottom, not his initials. I
Speaker 1: ask where'd you get this? And he says too quickly.
Speaker 1: Jamie left it in the car, said I could use it.
Speaker 1: There's comfort in the ease, but the ease is just practice.
Speaker 1: Our finances nudge at my awareness. I'm reconciling the mint
Speaker 1: app on Saturday when I see free Vemmo payments labeled
Speaker 1: by stuff to Jamie Hopkins with in the past month
Speaker 1: thirty two dollars, forty seven dollars twenty dollars. Not massive,
Speaker 1: but regular, more than just splitting a bar tab. I
Speaker 1: scroll further, nothing damning, but the rhythm is different. I'd
Speaker 1: email myself a reminder, nothing more than lines on a screen,
Speaker 1: but my chest is tied afterward, I ask Megan quietly
Speaker 1: over Lottes at Milstead if all the group rides include Jamie? Now,
Speaker 1: oh sure, I thought he knew. Honestly, he's great boat
Speaker 1: around for every one last week, your husband and Jamie
Speaker 1: have been inseparable. Aren't you coming to the party next month?
Speaker 1: Samuel's story is gefuzzer, project names morph. He's always just tired,
Speaker 1: always needs to clear his head. Sex is last frequent,
Speaker 1: less enthusiastic. One evening, I lay a hand on his
Speaker 1: back and he shrugs off, muttering I need to get
Speaker 1: these emails done. I'm sorry. I lie in bed at
Speaker 1: night and ask myself or you searching for signs or
Speaker 1: fabricating them? Are you upset because he's drifting or because
Speaker 1: it's no longer he drifts toward? If you're always looking
Speaker 1: for evidence of betrayal. Do you create it? But that's
Speaker 1: a trap too, because intuition isn't always paranoia, and secrets
Speaker 1: are often exactly what they seem. A few nights later,
Speaker 1: we organize another Sunday dinner. People talk about the ride
Speaker 1: up Tiger Mountain, how Jimmie made everyone pull over to
Speaker 1: eat gummy bears, how Samuel had to talk him out
Speaker 1: of bombing a wet down the section. Samuel makes a
Speaker 1: joke about new riders bringing out the worst in the group,
Speaker 1: but his face is tight the punch line delivered his defense.
Speaker 1: When we get home, he's jumpy. He volunteers to fold laundry,
Speaker 1: but returns every couple of minutes to check his phone.
Speaker 1: I try again, softly. You seem worn out. If you're struggling,
Speaker 1: you can tell me, he snaps. Not everything is a crisis.
Speaker 1: Can you please let it drop? His choice of words stings.
Speaker 1: I pick a safe lane, talking through the monthly grocery order,
Speaker 1: updating the calendar, staying busy. Later in the almost dark,
Speaker 1: as call for Samuel's Strava feed again, myles log kudos
Speaker 1: from friends, all jenneric until I notice comments beneath one
Speaker 1: ride we made. Those hills are BTC H JH and
Speaker 1: Samuel's reply, damn right next time loses round at five point,
Speaker 1: I go farther back, all harm as looking, but the
Speaker 1: comments build a texture I see inside joke only the
Speaker 1: real riders would get from Janie. The intimacy is casual,
Speaker 1: but with an undercurrent. I snap my laptop shut, unable
Speaker 1: to settle. Patterns emerge where none should be. I watch
Speaker 1: myself change. I spend more time in the group thread,
Speaker 1: more time thinking how the oldest would have gone to
Speaker 1: every ride together. Sometimes I think of Samuel before the
Speaker 1: start of collapsed, lightness in his eyes, his hand always
Speaker 1: reaching for mine. Under restaurant tables, I catch myself missing
Speaker 1: a version of him that may never have really exist. Samuel,
Speaker 1: for his part, seems at times almost relieved to be away.
Speaker 1: Longer showers, new socks, new gloves, always justifiable, never explained.
Speaker 1: I'm not looking for evidence, I tell myself, I just
Speaker 1: want things to match. But nothing lines up any more.
Speaker 1: One evening, planning a grocery list at the kitchen table,
Speaker 1: I find a folded slip of photo paper in the
Speaker 1: pocket of Samuel's suckling jacket. While looking for his keys.
Speaker 1: It's a Candida roofed up bar, city lights blurry in
Speaker 1: the background. Samuel may laughed, Jamie beside him, the way
Speaker 1: they are leaning together, shoulders billy touching, grin'slopsided eyes fixed
Speaker 1: on each other. There's an easier I haven't seen from
Speaker 1: Samuel in loms. His hand is somewhere behind Jamie's back.
Speaker 1: It's not just a group photo. He's closer than friends.
Speaker 1: The next day, Samuel comes home early. I try to
Speaker 1: act normal, but my mind keeps replaying that image, the details,
Speaker 1: the thousand excuses and explanations I want to believe. When
Speaker 1: I ask cow'swork presentation one, he launches into a story,
Speaker 1: but never looks at me head on. I keep the
Speaker 1: photo in my post for hours, unable to decide if
Speaker 1: I'll confront him to night, or wait until I've found
Speaker 1: a way to talk that won't make both of us
Speaker 1: hate the sound of my own voice. I call my again,
Speaker 1: voice trembling more than I intend. Hey, have you seen
Speaker 1: sam and Jamie out together? Like? Not just on rides?
Speaker 1: This hesitation on her end, then a careful yeah at
Speaker 1: Pike Place? Sometimes I thought you two went together. I
Speaker 1: end the call heart bounding. The pressure at my temples
Speaker 1: now a steady drumbeat. I want to scream, cry for
Speaker 1: there was something, anything to break the word spell that
Speaker 1: settled over the apartment. Instead. I open Samuel's laptop, checking
Speaker 1: for hotel bookings, but his browser history is wiped. I
Speaker 1: curse silently, scrolling for emails receipts nothing at first, but then,
Speaker 1: sitting at the kitchen island, laid into the night, I
Speaker 1: see a confirmation for Summrise rooftoppin, dated for a Thursday.
Speaker 1: He'd claimed he was stuck in a rain delay and night.
Speaker 1: The group chat showed there right, ended early, not the
Speaker 1: same day as the photo, but clothes. I noted it
Speaker 1: my hand shaking. I text Max awkwardly. Is Jamie local
Speaker 1: or does he just crush in the city Sometimes? Max
Speaker 1: answers he's around a lot lately. Sam lets him leave
Speaker 1: his stuff at your place. Right. There's a thousand things
Speaker 1: I don't know and only one thing I do. Whatever
Speaker 1: this is, it isn't bad luck or stress. Its choice
Speaker 1: is made in the silence between words. I sleep badly,
Speaker 1: weird fever, dreams, a sense of time folding back on itself.
Speaker 1: When Samuel comes home, the next day, I try gentle honesty.
Speaker 1: I've found the photo in your jacket. I want to
Speaker 1: believe you, but things don't add up. Samuel Saggs first
Speaker 1: truly deflated in weeks, and his face rearranges into the
Speaker 1: mask he uses at work. Em you don't need to
Speaker 1: get spun up about this. Jamie's just a cycling friend.
Speaker 1: I've been feeling off works a jerk right now. I
Speaker 1: can't keep up with these guys on the hills. I
Speaker 1: hate feeling all and out of shape. While James Crack
Speaker 1: jokes about everything. That photoh a year. It was after
Speaker 1: a group event. Everyone was messing around. He lifts his
Speaker 1: hands like he expects me to drop the subject. Honey,
Speaker 1: I promise it's not what you think. Jamie goes home
Speaker 1: after the RIDS. I needed heads base, that's all. Didn't
Speaker 1: want to get into it because you know how much
Speaker 1: cycling means to me, and I'm embarrassed. They can't keep up.
Speaker 1: The words have a lulling, familiar quality. I want to
Speaker 1: believe them, because to admit otherwise would mean something foundational
Speaker 1: has shifted. That night, Samuel is attentive, mixed dinner, cleans up,
Speaker 1: even turns off his foree and puts on a movie.
Speaker 1: He's gentle, solicitous For a few days, the rhythm normalizes.
Speaker 1: He stays home, plans next Sunday's dinner with me, even
Speaker 1: suggests inviting a few of our non cycling friends. It's
Speaker 1: almost easy to believe that I blew it out of proportion,
Speaker 1: that asiety found a target and twisted minor irritations into crisis.
Speaker 1: But little cracks reform even during these comspells. Sunday afternoon,
Speaker 1: as we're cleaning up after lunch, I catch Samuel texting
Speaker 1: with his back to me by the fridge. He laughs
Speaker 1: at something, then REases the message thread before returning to
Speaker 1: the living room. I file away. Two nights later, while
Speaker 1: searching our coot rack for a lostcarf I reach into
Speaker 1: Samuel's jacket and find another crumpled print at a bar,
Speaker 1: received two drinks, two entrees. They did the same night,
Speaker 1: as they're just a quick solo ride. The signature is
Speaker 1: Samuel's the server a scroll you touro rite come again
Speaker 1: above a smiley face, my breathing goeshllow. It's not just
Speaker 1: patterns any more. Detailed stack the photo of the receipt
Speaker 1: the late night hotel confirmation. The eras threads. The web
Speaker 1: is woven of small choices, made in secret and concealed
Speaker 1: even as explanations are offered. I realize, standing in the
Speaker 1: semi dark, that trusting Samuel to tell me the truth
Speaker 1: has meant not trusting myself to see what's right in
Speaker 1: front of me. And I do see it now, or
Speaker 1: at least I see that I need to keep looking carefully.
Speaker 1: I dig deeper, not sure if I want absolute proof
Speaker 1: or the slim is plausible. Out that night, when Samuel's asleep,
Speaker 1: I check his email drafts. Some event confirmations have been deleted,
Speaker 1: but two remain, both to j Hopkins and a secondary Gmail.
Speaker 1: I don't recognize it's for recent Thursdays, the same day
Speaker 1: as he said his phone died or his ride was
Speaker 1: longer than planned. I pause, hand, hovering. Am I detective?
Speaker 1: Or am I losing my mind? I message Megan again,
Speaker 1: tacking on a little white lie. Hey have you noticed
Speaker 1: Jamie around lately? I'm worried about him. He seemed off
Speaker 1: for the last rye. Megan's typing bubble blinks, then stops.
Speaker 1: Then I mean he's fine. I guess he and sam
Speaker 1: have been meeting up a lot. I thought you all
Speaker 1: were close. I thank her, ask about brunch plans, and
Speaker 1: the conversation as lightly as possible. Hannick radiates from my
Speaker 1: chest in my arms. I close everything, the Venmo account, Strava,
Speaker 1: group chats, emails, and try to focus. My doubts have
Speaker 1: turned to certainty, but still lack a confession. It's almost
Speaker 1: midnight when I step onto the balcony, breathing the cold,
Speaker 1: watching Nion slip across slip pavement. The city is full
Speaker 1: of people lying to themselves. In this moment, I'm one
Speaker 1: of them, but that won't last. Sleep fitful, Samuel leaves
Speaker 1: early for another morning ride. My world, once stable, wobbles
Speaker 1: on the narrow edge of whatever comes next. And still
Speaker 1: I don't have the full truth, not yet, but I
Speaker 1: know where to look. To be continued in part two,
Speaker 1: I decide mid morning that I can't exist like this
Speaker 1: and tethered between certainty and paranoia. So I make a
Speaker 1: little list on my phone, a practical plan for the day, grocery,
Speaker 1: run emails for work, checking with making about a brunch date.
Speaker 1: Lilo observes, see what shakes loose, But the list doesn't
Speaker 1: quiet my mind. At the checkout, I find myself enabled
Speaker 1: to shake the image of that rooft up barle foot,
Speaker 1: of the easy tilt of Samuel's head, the shoulder to
Speaker 1: shoulder comfort with Jamie. There was a time I could
Speaker 1: read everything Samuel thought by the flicker of his eyes.
Speaker 1: Now he seems written in a code. I no longer
Speaker 1: possess the key too. Back home, I put my headphones on,
Speaker 1: pretend to get lost in date cleaning for an upcoming project.
Speaker 1: But every few lines I glance at the clock, half
Speaker 1: waiting for Samuel's location to date. Unfind my that, at
Speaker 1: least is still enabled the old habit of sharing our
Speaker 1: locations in case of emergencies, with the every day chaos
Speaker 1: that comes with city living. His dot takes from somewhere
Speaker 1: in the new district, then drifts further east. Pauses near
Speaker 1: gas works, could be cycling, could be anything. At lunch,
Speaker 1: I tax Samuel, just a soft check in hope it's
Speaker 1: not pouring on pick up out milk if you pass
Speaker 1: a store. His reply takes twelve minutes, purely polite, will
Speaker 1: do headed back soon. I eat standing at the counter.
Speaker 1: When the ring comes harder, thunder rolling through the city,
Speaker 1: Samuel's Ackon holds in the same spot for nearly half
Speaker 1: an hour before moving again. I dream up explanations, flat tire,
Speaker 1: coffee stop, a coal from a friend. I wonder for
Speaker 1: the first time if he's muted location sharing before, and
Speaker 1: if so, how many times I simply didn't think to check.
Speaker 1: The exhaustion of suspicion is a physical thing, tension at
Speaker 1: the base of muscal the constant urge to reread every
Speaker 1: innocuous message between us, as if, with enough effort, some
Speaker 1: secret annotation will appear. Early evening, before the light slits away,
Speaker 1: Samuel comes home. He drops his helmet on the pile
Speaker 1: of mail and shades his soaked gear with a practice shiver.
Speaker 1: Felt good to get out, he says, avoiding my gaze.
Speaker 1: I gnawed, ask nothing. He disappears for a shower. Later
Speaker 1: we take out down the couch. Samuel's quite too quiet
Speaker 1: for his usual post ride boaster. He doesn't reach from
Speaker 1: a hand, doesn't loop his legs over mine the way
Speaker 1: he used to. He sits apart, scrolling something on his phone,
Speaker 1: disappearing into a digital world. I no longer share. I
Speaker 1: try in the most indirect way I can to draw
Speaker 1: him out. He think we might need a break from
Speaker 1: the group's stuff. I gestured to the perpetual pile of
Speaker 1: gear at the door. Maybe do something just us like
Speaker 1: old times. He chooses dumpling and glances half smiling. Maybe
Speaker 1: been a rough patch at work. M head's messy, you
Speaker 1: know how it is. His eyes flick away, settling on
Speaker 1: the muted television. I let the moment pass, noting the
Speaker 1: new language had messy, not unstressed. It's subtle, but pointed.
Speaker 1: A message may be that I should leave well enough
Speaker 1: alone for now. I do the dishes alone, water rushing
Speaker 1: over my hands, mind clattering through stray obtivations and told
Speaker 1: inside jokes, femo payments, the growing distance between us. Sometimes
Speaker 1: I catch myself midthought, this is ridiculous, he tell me
Speaker 1: if there was something real to worry about. But the
Speaker 1: counter chatter is louder. Now he could tell you he hasn't.
Speaker 1: The next evening, I test myself. I wait until Samuel's
Speaker 1: finishing up with his emails and ask as lightly as
Speaker 1: can be managed, Hey, do you want to come with
Speaker 1: me to Maddie's art thing Thursday? Max and Megan are going,
Speaker 1: figuring maybe a night off the bike would be good.
Speaker 1: For the legs. Samuel doesn't look up from his laptop
Speaker 1: for a long beat. Thursday, I think I have a
Speaker 1: late call with New York where pushing a release might
Speaker 1: not wrap until ten. Sorry, the apology is practiced. Tired,
Speaker 1: I pressed no further, but I know it. Thursday comes.
Speaker 1: I walked to the gallery alone, rap tight against the rain,
Speaker 1: and indulge in one small act of sleuthing. I opened
Speaker 1: Strava before I leave and snap a screenshirt of Samuel's
Speaker 1: latest ride, Lobbart of a five hitting pum evening by
Speaker 1: the screw Puscle. Nothing about a lake call, just route data.
Speaker 1: Three other rider taxed, j H Max Meghan. Midway through
Speaker 1: the gallery tour, Megan finds me by the appetizers. Glad
Speaker 1: you made it. I thought Samuel would come along. Her
Speaker 1: voice is equal Pot's greustion and apology. I say he
Speaker 1: had work stuff. Maybe he'll swing by layer. She shakes
Speaker 1: her head. I bows cocked weird. I figured he'd at
Speaker 1: least meet you after he and Jamie ducked out early
Speaker 1: from the ride, said they were going for drinks near campus.
Speaker 1: She takes a bite of Christine, oblivious to the shock.
Speaker 1: I feel tighening my chest. You should stop by Phyllis.
Speaker 1: Think the group's converging there. The rest of my night
Speaker 1: is colorless. I stand near the door, half listening to conversations,
Speaker 1: watching my phone for a coal at text from Samuel
Speaker 1: that doesn't arrive. At ten, Still in my coat, I
Speaker 1: call him, no answer, I don't leave a message. I
Speaker 1: find myself, despite everything I've ever promised about self respect
Speaker 1: and boundaries, walking the ten blocks toward Fiddlers. Anyway. Maybe
Speaker 1: it's nothing, I tell myself. Maybe this is just the
Speaker 1: rain in my head, the old anxiety. Maybe if I
Speaker 1: can see Samuel, just see him, everything will fall back
Speaker 1: into place. Outside Fiddler's steam fogs to windows, laughter spills out.
Speaker 1: As the door opens. I press my palm to the glass,
Speaker 1: purring inside. Max waves at me from the bar, but
Speaker 1: I don't see Samuel at first. Then I dar at
Speaker 1: a back table, hunched over a pitcher, Jamie beside him.
Speaker 1: They're leaning in, laughing over something on the phone screen.
Speaker 1: There's a closeness, a huddled energy that flashes like a
Speaker 1: warning beacon. It's not just comdery. It's too easy, two bonded.
Speaker 1: I step back into the rain before anyone else spots me.
Speaker 1: The cold soaks through my shoes, and I begin to walk,
Speaker 1: feeling stupid for coming, but unable to stop replaying the
Speaker 1: look on Samuel's face, the unguarded joy. That night, Samuel
Speaker 1: comes home after midnight, unawakened bed, pretending to read. He
Speaker 1: smells of bourbon and stale fries. Sorry, it turned into
Speaker 1: a thing. Jamie's birthday apparently, Max baled earily. Megan too.
Speaker 1: He strips off as jacket, clumsily missing the hook by
Speaker 1: her foot. Didn't want to wake you. He drifts into
Speaker 1: the shower before I can summon any words. Friday, as
Speaker 1: the rhythm of the week settles back into place, I
Speaker 1: notice Samuel limping slightly. His knee bears a roscrape half
Speaker 1: yield wipe out. I ask ton neutral, He grins real
Speaker 1: For a change, Jamie dared me to go for the
Speaker 1: curb cut out side Fiddlers didn't end well, as you
Speaker 1: can see the beat. He's an idiot, but a good guy.
Speaker 1: The flash of warmth is so unlike the rest of
Speaker 1: his reserve that I stir at him for a moment,
Speaker 1: searching for my husband. He busies himself can coffee, humming tunelessly.
Speaker 1: On Sunday, we host in her again, less full than usual.
Speaker 1: Max and Meghan, but the others bellowed. There's a weird
Speaker 1: lightness in the house or relief in lowered expectations. Samuel
Speaker 1: is attentive topping up drinks, asking Megan about her new job.
Speaker 1: When Max starts in about next week's hell climb up
Speaker 1: Cougar Mountain, samuel smile is brittle. Maybe I'll sit this
Speaker 1: one out. Got a project's sprint coming. Max gives him
Speaker 1: a friendly punch on the shoulder. Yea right later, as
Speaker 1: we do dishes, Megan leans in, is sam okay, he
Speaker 1: seems tense. She gives me a pointed look. Here okay,
Speaker 1: I force a smile. I think so just the season.
Speaker 1: We linger in the echo of running water and clattering plates.
Speaker 1: I want for mad moment to just confide everything. My
Speaker 1: husband is lying to me. I don't trust my own instincts,
Speaker 1: but I don't. On Tuesday, I get an email notification
Speaker 1: during a meeting strave a weekly summary Emily your friend
Speaker 1: road thirty two miles attached as a group photo from Saturdays,
Speaker 1: write Samuel, Jamie, and two other munks and hand outside
Speaker 1: crowded bakery. The caption of Victory Snacks with the Squad,
Speaker 1: Samuel never mentioned coffee. He'd said he stayed late at work,
Speaker 1: just enough time for a solo ride before dark. Everything
Speaker 1: is a loop, one story for me, one for his friends.
Speaker 1: Jamie stands in the middle, om draped across Samuel's shoulders,
Speaker 1: like they've done this forever. I feel my composer begin
Speaker 1: to fray at the edges. I sift through group texs,
Speaker 1: Instagram posts, slowly becoming the archetype ice where I'd never
Speaker 1: become a part account in time stamps, lurking in the
Speaker 1: digital after life of someone else's memories. That night, Samuel
Speaker 1: suggests take out in a movie. I can't focus. He
Speaker 1: passes me his phone to cue up Netflix. The home
Speaker 1: screen unfamiliar. All his usual apps are in a new order,
Speaker 1: notifications disabled, A new folder utilities catches my eye briefly
Speaker 1: before I hand it back. I waken the middle of
Speaker 1: the night to the sound of Samuel's phone buzzing. He's
Speaker 1: asleep beside me, breathing slow and deep. The name Jamie
Speaker 1: Howkins floats on the screen and incoming mean cheery and bland.
Speaker 1: I can't resist. I swipe to open, and the chatt
Speaker 1: is swift into my memes, GIFs, short jokes, dumb banter,
Speaker 1: all tinged with the warmth that is more than friendly.
Speaker 1: At the top, a pin message same time Thursday, got
Speaker 1: your surprise. I quickly swipe away before Samuel Stairs unable
Speaker 1: to sleep. A message Jamie on Instagram the next morning.
Speaker 1: Partly is a test and partly as a desperate play
Speaker 1: for information. I keep it friendly. Hey, this is Emily,
Speaker 1: Sam's wife. Just wanted to say, Hia, it's wild we
Speaker 1: haven't met after all these right, Hope you survived the
Speaker 1: code jump ha. The reply is fast, casual. Hey Emily,
Speaker 1: ha ha, Yet that was nuts. Didn't realize who you were.
Speaker 1: Sam talks about you all the time. Hope to finally
Speaker 1: meet O or EL soon. And then nothing my message.
Speaker 1: We're hosting a thing next week. Hope you can make it.
Speaker 1: No reply. I see the red receipt and the silence
Speaker 1: that follows. Something prickles at my spine. I scan our
Speaker 1: shared calendar, Thursday's evening call written in samuel s tit'script
Speaker 1: every week for a month, the hotel receipt from last
Speaker 1: week's It's like a lead in my book's a concrete
Speaker 1: proof of a secret still only half spoken. I start
Speaker 1: keeping a notek, jotting down times, oddities, reseats. I hate
Speaker 1: myself for this, but I persist because when someone you
Speaker 1: trust starts spinning new truce, you need to anchor yourself
Speaker 1: to the facts. When I try raising the topic again, tentatively, Babe,
Speaker 1: everything okay, you've just seemed off, maybe lonely. I guess
Speaker 1: we can talk, you know, about anything. The Samuel is
Speaker 1: quick to brush it aside. It's just work, and Jamie's
Speaker 1: just a guy from the group. You're over linking it.
Speaker 1: But his jaw flexes and his hands tremble ever so slightly.
Speaker 1: The cadence of his lives has grown smoother, as if rehearsed.
Speaker 1: A week later, Meghan invites me to luncheon. Mentions. Saw
Speaker 1: sam and Jamie at the market look like they were
Speaker 1: plotting well domination. She laughs, but something in her tone
Speaker 1: nags me, I have cowde eemed honestly, like brothers, or
Speaker 1: maybe like old friends. It's different, though Ye're good. I
Speaker 1: not automatically, but my stomach titans. I tempt one small
Speaker 1: experiment on a Thursday night, when Samuel asserts he will
Speaker 1: be at work late. I dropped by the office and
Speaker 1: implese coffee run. The lobby is mostly empty, the glow
Speaker 1: of monarch is faded. Only the cleaning crew lingering. Samuel's
Speaker 1: cubicle is abandoned. I ask a worker, feigning idle concern,
Speaker 1: if I'm still here. I was bringing him some dinner.
Speaker 1: The guy shrugs, no, he left hours ago, said he
Speaker 1: had a hot date with a hill climb. I stand
Speaker 1: in a parking garage longer than I need you, heart
Speaker 1: thumping a truth, bleeding in at the edges. I am
Speaker 1: done with plausible deniability. Maybe it's rage, a sorrow, or
Speaker 1: simple exhaustion, but I get in my car, hands steady,
Speaker 1: and drive toward the nearest bars, same mil My frequent
Speaker 1: fiddler's is levy, rain painting shadows outside. I spot them
Speaker 1: through the fogged glass. Samuel and Jamie at the window, laughing,
Speaker 1: heads nearly touching, an intimacy in a posture that's amistakable
Speaker 1: even to a stranger. I don't go in. I don't
Speaker 1: text him. I drive home, park and sit keys in hand,
Speaker 1: ringing with adrenaline and pain. I remind myself over and
Speaker 1: over to breathe. When Samuel comes home hours later, he
Speaker 1: spins a familiar narrative work round, late stop for a
Speaker 1: quick beer with the crew, bad traffic, Sorry for being
Speaker 1: late this time, I ask alone. He blinks once, only once,
Speaker 1: then recovers, hyeah, I needed the headspace. The building blocks
Speaker 1: of our history start to shimmer in substantial. I remember
Speaker 1: the early years, our elopement, the late night plans spun
Speaker 1: on city roofed ups, the certainty that we will each
Speaker 1: other safe harbor. How easily it turns out even those
Speaker 1: kinds of promises can be rewritten by omission. I tell
Speaker 1: myself one more conversation, one more chance for Samuel to explain, confess,
Speaker 1: or at least to be vulnerable instead of evasive. I
Speaker 1: sec myself up, rehearse every version of the talk, lining
Speaker 1: up my questions like soldiers, Who is Jamie really? Why
Speaker 1: the secrecy? What aren't you telling me? When the time comes,
Speaker 1: I can't do it. Samuel is gentle for dave ushers
Speaker 1: mean from the cold, cook'sn elaborate meal checks in on
Speaker 1: my week. His presence sues me against all logic. I
Speaker 1: decide to wait. Maybe I'm wrong, May be it really
Speaker 1: it is just a world closing in not something fratured
Speaker 1: in our marriage. But the waiting does not bring clarity. Instead,
Speaker 1: the evidence snowballs. Samuel begins to take over night rides,
Speaker 1: leaving at dusk, returning before dawn, the dark circles under
Speaker 1: his eyes deepening. I track him through Strava, seeing the
Speaker 1: routes end mules from home, often nearly addressed for a
Speaker 1: boutique hotel. Once, while reconciling our budget, I see another
Speaker 1: Venmo one hundred sixty eight dollars to Jamie, this time
Speaker 1: labeled lodging. That's not by gear. All my attempts of
Speaker 1: rationalizing collapse. I decide I deserve, at the very least
Speaker 1: not to be the last person in my own marriage
Speaker 1: to know what's real. The next time Samuel returns from
Speaker 1: a ride, I'm up waiting. Lights on the rooftop bar,
Speaker 1: photo spread open on the kitchen, count alongside two receipts,
Speaker 1: one from the bar, one from the hotel. I don't
Speaker 1: say anything. When he enters. He hangs his helmet on
Speaker 1: the counter and stops. Seeing the display. His face blanches.
Speaker 1: You want to explain this? I keep my tone, measure
Speaker 1: the effort costing more than night have guessed. He looks
Speaker 1: at the evidence, then at me. For a moment, his
Speaker 1: bravado wavers, and he looks more tired than guilty. He starts,
Speaker 1: am I. I stop him with a gesture. I just
Speaker 1: want the truth. That's it. His jowel works. It's complicated.
Speaker 1: Jamie's just at a tough time for him, for me.
Speaker 1: I don't let up. Why the secrecy? Then wire raise messages,
Speaker 1: why about work? Stay out over night? Samuel's mouth opens,
Speaker 1: but nothing comes out up first finally, because I didn't
Speaker 1: want to hurt you. It's almost laughable. I didn't want
Speaker 1: to hurt me. Sam you're hurting me right now. Every
Speaker 1: time you lie. That's the harm. He sumps into a chair,
Speaker 1: head and hands I'm sorry. He manages voice brittle. Jamie
Speaker 1: and I started harmless. It really did, group writes late
Speaker 1: night beer is blown off steam. I was falling apart
Speaker 1: at work. I didn't expect any of this. The confession
Speaker 1: cracks something in me. A press again. You didn't expect
Speaker 1: what the bar, the hotel, all the late rites. Suddenly
Speaker 1: being with him. He kept telling me he barely mattered.
Speaker 1: He avoids my eyes. I thought it was a mistake.
Speaker 1: I thought we'd hang out and I'd feel better and
Speaker 1: it would just stop. Did it stop? He shakes his
Speaker 1: head silently. The silence stretches, and yet years of friendship, partnership, laughter,
Speaker 1: struggle and trust glops down to pinpricks of memory. I
Speaker 1: can't reorder. I realized, finally and fully that whatever we
Speaker 1: have has taken on more to faster than i'd like
Speaker 1: my self believe. I take a breath, steady. I need
Speaker 1: to know Samuel was adjust him? Has there been any
Speaker 1: one else? No, it's just Jamie, I swear it. He
Speaker 1: looks at me, desperate. I didn't mean for it to
Speaker 1: go so far, they just did. I'm sorry, sorrow swallow's
Speaker 1: anger for a moment, I want to scream, but my
Speaker 1: body is heavy, my voice gone quiet. I think YE
Speaker 1: need to stay somewhere else to night. He nods, defeated, wordless.
Speaker 1: I walked to the bedroom, closed the door softly, and
Speaker 1: pack a bag with shaking hands. But I do not cry,
Speaker 1: not yet. Instead, I listened to the rain hamm of
Speaker 1: the windows and count, for perhaps the last time, all
Speaker 1: the ways I used to trust the sound of samuel
Speaker 1: footsteps on the stair. I didn't sleep. I sat at
Speaker 1: the edge of the mattress with my back half, sipped
Speaker 1: lights dim to a licormblow, and listened for the sounds
Speaker 1: of Samuel moving on the other side of the door.
Speaker 1: Ever so often, forwards, creaked, the fridge, thumped open and closed,
Speaker 1: His footsteps retrace over its across the kitchen, always quiet,
Speaker 1: but never careful enough to raise his presence. Once I
Speaker 1: thought I heard him cry, I found myself frozen hot,
Speaker 1: as if the simple proof of his regret wouldn't do
Speaker 1: anything that had come before. My old movements felt robotic,
Speaker 1: a pack charger's jeanes, a sweater I had stopped wearing
Speaker 1: because Samuel said the color washed me at these ridiculous
Speaker 1: details now suddenly mine and only mine again. I thought
Speaker 1: about leaving a note. I scrawled through phrases in my head,
Speaker 1: but everything sounded either cruel or cowardly, neither of which
Speaker 1: I wanted to become. Even now, just before dawn, after
Speaker 1: hours of that strange, hollow waiting, I walked briskly through
Speaker 1: the living room, duffel slung over my shoulder, eyes fixed
Speaker 1: on the front door. Samuel was curled at one end
Speaker 1: of the sofa, cradling his head in his arms. His
Speaker 1: foam lay on the coffee table screened dark. As I
Speaker 1: stepped past, he stirred, half rising Emma. He starred at
Speaker 1: vose horse. I didn't stop. I slipped my shoes on,
Speaker 1: quietly fumbled with the bag, unwilling to see his face.
Speaker 1: Saying good bye, Saying anything felt impossible. I merely said
Speaker 1: I'll text you you and left without looking back, the
Speaker 1: door closing against whatever last protest he might have tried. Outside,
Speaker 1: the early gray haze pressed in, misbeating up on my skin, nummy,
Speaker 1: and strangely clarifying at once. I called Meghan, apologized for
Speaker 1: waking her, and in her groggy, unfiltered concern was a
Speaker 1: comfort I hadn't realized I still needed. Of course, come
Speaker 1: as long as you want. You don't have to explain.
Speaker 1: Just get here, she told me, voice steadier than my own.
Speaker 1: I drove through empty streets when shild wipe is frantic,
Speaker 1: the city's sleepy enimity wrapping around me like a shield.
Speaker 1: At Meggan's still in my coat, I sat on the
Speaker 1: edge of her guest bed, drinking com amel tea. She
Speaker 1: pressed into my hands and stared at the faint water
Speaker 1: stain on his ceiling. She didn't press for details. She
Speaker 1: only hovered, tucked a blanket round my shoulders, wheeled and
Speaker 1: phone charger. I said nothing about the receipts of the
Speaker 1: photo or the granular humilations of those last weeks. I
Speaker 1: kept oliver that to myself, somewhere between shame and sell prediction. Instead,
Speaker 1: we spoke in code, circling around freezes like it's not working, Anne,
Speaker 1: I just need to breathe. I promised to call my
Speaker 1: boss to take a sick day, but when the time came,
Speaker 1: I only texted family emergency offline tomorrow. The aftershook started
Speaker 1: before noon, an incoming wave of apologies and confusion, little
Speaker 1: dramas pulling at every strand of my life with Samuel.
Speaker 1: My phone vibrated with unread messages Samuel several in a row,
Speaker 1: FO so long an apology, then too frantic request to talk,
Speaker 1: Then abruptly at silence, I answered none. I didn't want
Speaker 1: to see his explanations in frozen text, didn't want the
Speaker 1: intimacy of his voice in my ear, not while everything's
Speaker 1: so trembled. Max texted next, asking after Samuel, he's off
Speaker 1: the grid. Am said, he screwed up you O K.
Speaker 1: I stared at his questions for minutes before typing staying
Speaker 1: at Meggan's just needs some space. Thanks for asking. Max's
Speaker 1: reply was immediate call if you want to talk, no judgment. Later,
Speaker 1: I sent a group message, a bland placeholder to keep
Speaker 1: the world from poking further, taking time to process. Some
Speaker 1: things need a little space. Appreciate you all the network
Speaker 1: of friends, fractured by what they sensed. Now, even if
Speaker 1: he didn't know the whole story, replied with careful hearts
Speaker 1: and little probing. No one pressed for specifics, just offerers
Speaker 1: of coffee. I guess rooum a way out If I
Speaker 1: asked the apartment wait mute on the other side of
Speaker 1: the city. Samuel in it, were out of it a
Speaker 1: monument to old hopes. I felt its entin a stretch
Speaker 1: every time my mind went there. For the first time
Speaker 1: in years, I wanted no part in it, not just Samuel,
Speaker 1: but the whole sandtum we'd built. Megan moved through her
Speaker 1: own routines, quietly, opening blinds, making toes, inviting me for
Speaker 1: small walks. Sometimes she'd ask, do you want to talk
Speaker 1: about it? Sometimes I shoot my head. Sometimes I tried
Speaker 1: to outline what had happened, always faltering when it came
Speaker 1: to Janie, to the way Samuel had remade their friendship
Speaker 1: into second universe I was never invited into. After the
Speaker 1: first day, the sense of waiting shifted from anticipation to
Speaker 1: something more alike dread what happens when friend ask for details,
Speaker 1: when the cycling group fractures, when the practical steps of
Speaker 1: when coupling have to begin. At dusk, I checked our
Speaker 1: joint checking balance, watching Samuel pay rent by groceries, send
Speaker 1: another Vemo label to Jamie gear split. If he noticed
Speaker 1: my withdrawal from our share finances, pulling my name off,
Speaker 1: autocorrecting spreadsheets, closing mint, he said nothing. Each action felt
Speaker 1: both defensive and necessary. By midweek, word never spoken directly,
Speaker 1: but moving innexorably through the group, had gotten around that
Speaker 1: something happened between Samuel and me. Meghan fielded a few
Speaker 1: worried texts from mutual friends. Max called ones forced out
Speaker 1: with concern to say, simply, whatever you need em, take it,
Speaker 1: don't let anyone rush you, all right? I appreciated the neutrality.
Speaker 1: The worst part of a betrayal like this is not
Speaker 1: having proved to brandish, just a thickening hurricane of suspicion.
Speaker 1: Finally borne out, leaving the air thin and the ground changed.
Speaker 1: On Thursday, I worked to an email from our landlord,
Speaker 1: heard your traveling, let us know of change is needed.
Speaker 1: My breath stuttered. Had Samuel told them we were splitting?
Speaker 1: Did he intend to? The implication simmered at the edges,
Speaker 1: making everything feel both real and surreal. Meanwhile, the cycling
Speaker 1: group boast in its own uneasy orbit. Jamie dropped out
Speaker 1: of the chat, stopped appearing in groups, straw events. Meghan
Speaker 1: reported that people were piecing things together, fragments of conversation
Speaker 1: making the rest clear. Some wanted to know, was it
Speaker 1: really Jamie? Did Samuel confess? I said nothing, but each
Speaker 1: update felt like a small stern added to wait on
Speaker 1: much ast. Late that afternoon, an email thread pink from
Speaker 1: my boss. Is everything all right? Howm life okay? Let
Speaker 1: us know if you need more time. The subtle layering
Speaker 1: of concerned spectation and veiled scrutiny triggered reach a kind
Speaker 1: of indignity that my life's collapse had made its way
Speaker 1: even obliquely into professional space, none of it compared to
Speaker 1: the private cost. Every evening I drafted messages to Samuel
Speaker 1: parrograss I never sent explanations, accusations, even small practicalities the
Speaker 1: mortgage transfer handle it. Instead, we slid into a kind
Speaker 1: of stund offf he texted less, clearly unwilling to push
Speaker 1: any boundary that might make things worse. I kept my
Speaker 1: answers brief, neutral, buying time for some internal sense of
Speaker 1: order to return. Friday, Megan found me staring blankly at
Speaker 1: the window as dusk turned the street lights on. She
Speaker 1: made me tea, said the mug beside me and said gently,
Speaker 1: you know you can stay as long as you need,
Speaker 1: but you'll have to talk to him some time, even
Speaker 1: if just to pick a path forward. She was right.
Speaker 1: The apartment finnounces, even our friends, They all horn in
Speaker 1: the balance, waiting for some outcome that would either finalize
Speaker 1: the break or open a torturous path back. I texted Sirmuel,
Speaker 1: we need to talk face to face tomorrow morning ten
Speaker 1: a m our place. His response was quick, okay, I'll
Speaker 1: be there. I felt drained, but a clarity, a terrible calm,
Speaker 1: sailed the confrontation. The true one would be the next
Speaker 1: line forward. It rained had all that night, a white
Speaker 1: noise that covered everything, the lingering feeling of Samuel's hand
Speaker 1: in mine. The sensation of sharing a bed with someone
Speaker 1: whose life had traveled on with ut me. The runness
Speaker 1: of being light is so intimately and so well. I
Speaker 1: awoke from thin fract should sleep near dawn Saturday morning.
Speaker 1: I dressed in a neutral sweater and Jean's hair pulled back,
Speaker 1: My thoughts tightly marshaled. Megan drove me over silence, save
Speaker 1: for a single yewo k at the curb. I nodded,
Speaker 1: stepping out into sheets of gray light. When I unlocked
Speaker 1: a door to the apartment, Samuel was already there, perched
Speaker 1: on the edge of the couch, hands clasped as if
Speaker 1: in prayer. His eyes met mine, red rimmed, uncertain, He
Speaker 1: looked haggoed his usual bolder shrunk to a diminished version
Speaker 1: of itself. I stood by the window, arms folded, for
Speaker 1: a long moment. Neither of us spoke. The silence ballooned.
Speaker 1: At last, I said, we can't do this half way.
Speaker 1: I need to hear everything. No more. It's complicated, just
Speaker 1: the truth. Samuel nodded, voice thick. You deserved that. He
Speaker 1: tried a first to blame the strain work, aging a
Speaker 1: feeling that all life together had started to grund him
Speaker 1: down lad and left him up. He said, it started
Speaker 1: with rise. I could talk to Jamie, could leave everything
Speaker 1: else behind, didn't have to be anyone but myself. His
Speaker 1: breath stuttered. I know it sounds like an excuse, but
Speaker 1: I felt alive for the first time in a long time.
Speaker 1: What does a life mean, Samuel, I asked, my voice
Speaker 1: barely steady, whying, cheating, tearing this open. He flinched. I
Speaker 1: didn't come looking for it. It just happened. The late
Speaker 1: nights turned into real talks, the kind you when I
Speaker 1: used to have. Jamie saw things in me. I didn't
Speaker 1: want to admit to you. He looked at the floor.
Speaker 1: I didn't want to lose you. I thought, if I
Speaker 1: just kept them separate, work, stress at home, everything else,
Speaker 1: have on the bike, I could handle it. But I couldn't.
Speaker 1: I pressed on, did you ever want to leave? Did
Speaker 1: you do you love? Him? A long pause, he wiped
Speaker 1: his eyes with the back of his hand finally met
Speaker 1: my gaze. I don't know what I feel. I love you,
Speaker 1: em I always have. But what I did with Jamie
Speaker 1: he trailed off chest, heaving, lost for words, all my anger,
Speaker 1: my shame, collected there at the helplessness in his posture,
Speaker 1: the cowardice in his refusal to choose. He built this
Speaker 1: house with me, he made promises to me, and then
Speaker 1: you turned around and lived another life, a secret I
Speaker 1: wasn't allowed to know. I don't want reasons, I want responsibility.
Speaker 1: He drew in a trembling breath. I'm sorry, he said,
Speaker 1: at once flat and final, the apology broad enough to
Speaker 1: cover all the specifics he would never be able to
Speaker 1: name out loud. For a blinding moment, I wanted to
Speaker 1: scream at him, to slap every last answer out of him,
Speaker 1: to make the well fit back into the grade of
Speaker 1: questions and consequences. At it, before I learned who Jamie was,
Speaker 1: what Samuel was hiding for, I saw that he didn't
Speaker 1: have those answers to give. If his betrayal had started
Speaker 1: his carelessness, he ended in cowardice, a refusal to make
Speaker 1: ada life truly honest. I said, you need to move
Speaker 1: out by the end of the week. We'll sort the
Speaker 1: rest as we go. He nodded, ies wet lips pressed together,
Speaker 1: as if trying to keep any more words from spilling free.
Speaker 1: I stepped into the kitchen handshaking and turned on the kettle,
Speaker 1: just to have something to do. Samuel didn't follow For
Speaker 1: some minutes. I stared at patterns of rain on the window,
Speaker 1: listening only to the clatter of him gathering a jacket,
Speaker 1: his helmet, the back back, no more speeches. When I
Speaker 1: walked back to the living room, he was at the door,
Speaker 1: shoulder sloped, gaze fixed on nothing. If you need anything,
Speaker 1: he said, but the words flat line drained of meaning.
Speaker 1: I didn't reply. The door shoot quietly behind him, not dramatic,
Speaker 1: only final. I stood still as the air began to
Speaker 1: move again, as the apartment settled into the new silence
Speaker 1: of a place that had been emptied of someone who
Speaker 1: thought he could have everything and lose nothing. I didn't
Speaker 1: move for a while, let the quite soak in that
Speaker 1: the stillness felled the space where Samuel's energy had always
Speaker 1: pressed up against mine. Then I said about taking care
Speaker 1: of what could be handled, bagging up items to donate,
Speaker 1: organizing paperworking tidy stacks on the counter, mocking off shared
Speaker 1: accounts for cloder. I texted Megan, it's done, he's moving out.
Speaker 1: A few hours later, Max texted again, not asking for sides,
Speaker 1: only saying sorry, if you need help packing or one company,
Speaker 1: let me know others sense more messages, emoji, hearts, open invitations,
Speaker 1: a few jokes about emergency karaoki, a language of caring
Speaker 1: that required no explanation. I responded with brief thank youse,
Speaker 1: summer in haze. I realized my presence in the cycling
Speaker 1: group chat had already shifted, demuted threats, people hesitated between
Speaker 1: Samuel and me, no one saying Jamie's name. The fracture
Speaker 1: wasn't just in my life, it was rippling through the
Speaker 1: whole circle. The next morning, make an offer to help pack,
Speaker 1: but I told her I needed a day alone to
Speaker 1: clear my own space. I wondered through the empty apartment,
Speaker 1: picking up objects heavy with memory and mug mark with
Speaker 1: our anniversary, the bad a deck of cards from our
Speaker 1: first trip, a pile of Samuel's gear. I made piles
Speaker 1: keep the scard return. I stopped to call the landlord,
Speaker 1: arranged to temporarily split the lease. Texted Samuel keys and mailbooks.
Speaker 1: If you need anything, please remove your stuff before Friday.
Speaker 1: He replied, simply understood. I'll be out at mid day.
Speaker 1: I got a call from Samuel. Can I pick up
Speaker 1: the rest of my gear tomorrow. I'll avoid your time.
Speaker 1: His voice was dull, professional. I told him yes. There
Speaker 1: were no questions, no more apologies, arrangements, nothing else. Evening
Speaker 1: brought a new come, the first real sense of a
Speaker 1: future without the fear of a soddenm betrayal, headen and
Speaker 1: the routine. I made myself dinner, poured a glass of wine,
Speaker 1: and sat on the couch. The apartment sounded different, cleaner
Speaker 1: of colder. When sleep finally came, it was shallow but harmless.
Speaker 1: There was grief, a dull ache, but not the needle
Speaker 1: of uncertainty. In the morning, I woke to gray light
Speaker 1: and the sound of distant rain, steady, a gentle repetition.
Speaker 1: For the first time and two long. I didn't dread
Speaker 1: what the day would bring. Standing in the enter living room,
Speaker 1: A spott its annual cycling hamlet on the kitchen counter,
Speaker 1: where he must have left it. It looked out of place,
Speaker 1: oddly bright against the hush. I text it, tor helmets here,
Speaker 1: I'll leave it by the door. No reply. I finished
Speaker 1: packing my own lost box, the weight of things finally manageable.
Speaker 1: I grabbed my back, shouldered my coat. Pause. One lost
Speaker 1: time at the thirshold. The keys felt cool, final in
Speaker 1: my palm. I set them on the counter beside the helmet,
Speaker 1: A lost gesture, one final act, possession exchanged for closure,
Speaker 1: passed for whatever came next. For a single fragile minute,
Speaker 1: I let my hand rest on the cool surface, thumb
Speaker 1: pressed to the familiar grain the apartment, holding all the
Speaker 1: remnants and echoes. I looked up at the window of
Speaker 1: rain streaking down faint color outside. I stepped out and
Speaker 1: pulled the door close behind me. The keys left the
Speaker 1: apartment behind. I stood in the hallway, everything strangely quiet.
Speaker 1: I felt in a blankness that followed both heaver and
Speaker 1: impossibly light. With every step away, the outline of the
Speaker 1: life had lost, forceeded, and something in steady but honest
Speaker 1: moved in to take its place on the sidewalk. I
Speaker 1: hesitated the pause more instinct than plan, and let myself
Speaker 1: feel the heft of the keys I just left behind.
Speaker 1: For years, the riddom had always been two sets jangling together,
Speaker 1: samuels hurried my need. Now the absence echoed. I shuffled
Speaker 1: past the faded hydrangea in our Camino garden, breathing in
Speaker 1: the faint metallic tan of Seattle rain and turned my
Speaker 1: collar up. My phone buzzed a notification for my bank,
Speaker 1: a deposit from Samuel, label for Bill's toll We sort
Speaker 1: no extra message efficient to the last one. Noon, small
Speaker 1: logistical fires popped up. The landlord wanted confirmation about the
Speaker 1: security deposit and who would be on the lease next month.
Speaker 1: A miscoal blink from Samuel's number, but when I dialed
Speaker 1: it back out of reflex, it went straight to vorsemail.
Speaker 1: For a brief moment, the impulse to fill that silence
Speaker 1: with something anger, explanation, even reassurances of civility, threatened to
Speaker 1: pull me under Instead. I let the dial tone hang,
Speaker 1: then ended the call, already mentally drafting how our conversation
Speaker 1: about splitting the leasewiko. There was relief, and there was
Speaker 1: grief running parallel. A steady drizzle persisted. I ducked into
Speaker 1: a bakery near Green Lake, just to sit somewhere that
Speaker 1: wasn't Nickins all that hollow apartment. I ordered toes, which
Speaker 1: I barely tasted, and people watch, letting their laughter at
Speaker 1: the rush of errands and lazy wee com pants blow
Speaker 1: around me. Fragments of old conversations with Samuel, kept flashing trips,
Speaker 1: planned over scoones, jokes about trading in for a grown
Speaker 1: up apartment. Now I marked it was just me, just
Speaker 1: my table, my coffee, by time to fill Meghan text
Speaker 1: it everything okay, I answered, almost unmoving out want to
Speaker 1: walk later? She replied immediately, of course, just say when.
Speaker 1: As early afternoon faded into wet blue dusk, the logistics multiplied.
Speaker 1: I found myself negotiating with Samuel entirely by text. Which
Speaker 1: furniture gee you want? And you should we close the
Speaker 1: joint account now or wait for the utilities for fund
Speaker 1: No exclamation marks, no pet names, nothing resembling our old
Speaker 1: short hand. Each message was a moon Von chessboard, careful
Speaker 1: and depersonalized. He said, I'll leave the keys with Megan.
Speaker 1: I didn't correct him. Between back and fourth females and
Speaker 1: sorting through an immucks clogged with notifications, a glimpse to
Speaker 1: group chat notification cycling fad now strangely silent, Jamie's name
Speaker 1: cropped up only as a ghost, usually through a voidance
Speaker 1: or abrupt subject change. Max had stopped posting her out plants,
Speaker 1: making suggestions for dinner now omitted. Samuel's name the social
Speaker 1: fault lines were jagged but oddly predictable, people picking sides
Speaker 1: without ever saying so. Toward evening, my phone ran in
Speaker 1: number I'd come to associate with Samuel's office line, not him.
Speaker 1: I hesitated, then answered a beat of silence. Then Samuel's
Speaker 1: voice low and halting ere I went, stay long, I'm
Speaker 1: at the apartment for the last of my things. One
Speaker 1: get in the way. Can I leave the router and
Speaker 1: spec keys with makin? I kept my tone even that's fine,
Speaker 1: Just let her know. Please, I'll pick up anything if
Speaker 1: there's a problem. He was quiet for a second. Then
Speaker 1: thank you for making space time. I'll just let me
Speaker 1: know if Bill's come up. It was the politeness that
Speaker 1: finally landed like a splinter. I had no more appetite
Speaker 1: for negotiation, no more words to waste on decency. Let's
Speaker 1: keep a simple saymil you have my number. I waited,
Speaker 1: but he said nothing, the silence extending till I finally
Speaker 1: ended the call, phone helplessly in my lap, fingers numb.
Speaker 1: At evening, rolled in Michon and I circled Green Lake
Speaker 1: under umbrellas. She kept pace with my silence, never trying
Speaker 1: to fill it. We watched run a splash through puddles,
Speaker 1: the city's lights reflected off slick pavement, and time bent
Speaker 1: around us. It felt unreal recounting details out loud, the receipts,
Speaker 1: the memes, the thousand signals dismissed or explained away. Mican listened.
Speaker 1: I was kind, only interrupting to say none of this
Speaker 1: was your fault, and not a bit of it. That's more.
Speaker 1: Mercy helped, as did the simple act of walking forward,
Speaker 1: even if I didn't know toward what. She stopped me
Speaker 1: once squeezed my hand. He survived. That accounts you're allowed
Speaker 1: to exist outside what happened. Over the following days, Samuel
Speaker 1: grew almost invisible. Communication powered down to dry texts, real
Speaker 1: presents raised from my routines, bill split gear, exchanged mail, redirected,
Speaker 1: Every contact urgent but impersonal. He had the weight of
Speaker 1: the fracture hung in our friend group, invisible but obvious.
Speaker 1: Seameie I heard through. Max had stopped showing up to rides.
Speaker 1: Word got out, Max said, voice loaded. He and Samuel
Speaker 1: nobody knows what to do. You need anything, you call
Speaker 1: me first. It was an offer of loyalty, but it
Speaker 1: also marked a new boundary. Our community, like our marriage,
Speaker 1: would never go back to the way it was. On
Speaker 1: a whim, I wandered through the old pick place stalls
Speaker 1: one afternoon, letting memory jossle with reality. I caught sight
Speaker 1: of a couple sharing a pastrate, their heads together, an
Speaker 1: easy laughter, and nearly turned round his stone, a flash
Speaker 1: of what once was possible. But I let the hout happen,
Speaker 1: let myself stay in place rather than ron. The cost
Speaker 1: of trusting again, of building a new rhythm would be
Speaker 1: reckoned in slow, small movements like this. The last task,
Speaker 1: I returned to the apartment, determined to gather a last sweater,
Speaker 1: a half empty bottle of shampoo, and an unopened letter
Speaker 1: address to both of us. The quiet was startling. Shells,
Speaker 1: empty furniture shifted, the place heavy with old sense. Samuel's
Speaker 1: helmet sat exactly where I had left it by the door,
Speaker 1: keys beside it. I touched them, but left them alone
Speaker 1: as silent active closure. When I locked the door for
Speaker 1: the final time, the click I could down the stairwell,
Speaker 1: sharp and and ambiguous. Afterwards, Megan drove us for noodles
Speaker 1: and together wetoast your new baselines. It was a triumph relief,
Speaker 1: Maybe the fruit was hot, the company reel, every ordinary detail,
Speaker 1: now carrying the way to hard one independence. That night,
Speaker 1: in my borrowed room, I lay awake, not replaying what
Speaker 1: had been lost, but cataloging carefully each compromise I had
Speaker 1: made to keep routine intact, I promised myself softly, never again,
Speaker 1: not at this cost. When I finally slept, the rain
Speaker 1: again returned, unhurried. The city pressed in blank and open,
Speaker 1: and I let co even just for a moment, of
Speaker 1: all the things I could not fix in the grayhouse.
Speaker 1: Before dawn, I pulled on my coat and slept out
Speaker 1: to walk alone along the avenues were Samuel and I
Speaker 1: once day dreamed. The wall felt changed, because it was
Speaker 1: because I was. Each breath pull called clean air inside
Speaker 1: to promise not of resolution, but of undeniable presence. I
Speaker 1: paused on the bridge over the ship canal. Water blow
Speaker 1: mirrored the silent sky, currents steady beneath the surface. For
Speaker 1: the first time in months, I didn't check my phone
Speaker 1: for an update, ortex or a location pain. I stood
Speaker 1: there quietly, letting my own heart beat loud and disguised
Speaker 1: in my chest. Then, with the city waking around me,
Speaker 1: I turned and walked back into the uncertain warning, carrying
Speaker 1: only what belonged to me, leaving the rest behind at last,