Speaker 1: I always feel an odd sense of relief when I
Speaker 1: step into our apartment after a grinding week days. Something
Speaker 1: about the predictable hush and the soft light pulling through
Speaker 1: our west windows makes my chest and clench. That Friday,
Speaker 1: I'd left the office later than planned, the kind of
Speaker 1: day where emails multiplied every time I took a breath,
Speaker 1: and the commute home used out into nearly an hour
Speaker 1: and a half thanks to some fist of a clogging
Speaker 1: up mane. Still, by seven, I was determined to have
Speaker 1: ay real, even something cozy, not fancy, just us again,
Speaker 1: after a run of too many grab abide after the
Speaker 1: gym or at my desk working late apologies. I lit
Speaker 1: the candles, I reheated the tortellini out pret that morning,
Speaker 1: tossed quickerucular salad and sliced bread motown on the speaker's
Speaker 1: a half bottle of decent wine breathing on the counter.
Speaker 1: A few months ago, Dylan would have texted me account
Speaker 1: by now leaving soon, but by club ran over with
Speaker 1: the little bikimoji as if it were our secret code.
Speaker 1: That week he started texting more perfunctory notes, not cold exactly,
Speaker 1: just abbreviated a shift from our usual suttle enough that
Speaker 1: it could have been my exhaustion or the accumulation of
Speaker 1: all little irritations Jeane brings with its sticky heat eight
Speaker 1: twenty phone buzzes. I glanced down a two liner cycling
Speaker 1: clop ran over grabbing food with the guys. They'll weighed
Speaker 1: up three. I hesitated, thums hovering, surprised by how disappointed
Speaker 1: I actually felt. We hadn't properly set at the table
Speaker 1: together in weeks. Maybe I started to reply in my
Speaker 1: mind when I'd last seen him laugh over some accidental
Speaker 1: saltspota or tease me about my never ending Spotify Throvek's playlist.
Speaker 1: I typed out, miss you enjoy save some energy for
Speaker 1: movies this weekend. The heart emogi felt awkward as I
Speaker 1: pressed send. I left my phone faced down on the table,
Speaker 1: poured myself a glass of pino, and tried to well
Speaker 1: away the sense of anti climax out of habit. I
Speaker 1: glanced at the wall calendar I'd made in January. Dylan's
Speaker 1: handwriting slanted across random saturdays early in the year. THO
Speaker 1: slots said a C plus C cabin or museum w
Speaker 1: slasse not a couple, scroll ride or just a cryptic out.
Speaker 1: I couldn't remember him mentioning plans for this Sunday. He'd
Speaker 1: blown off my museum, my deal last week two and
Speaker 1: would skipboulst trip of state, something he'd always claimed was
Speaker 1: our tradition, no big deal except for us, sort of us.
Speaker 1: I'd almost tixted my sister out of irritation, but stopped myself.
Speaker 1: Maybe it was nothing. I scrolled through Dylan's old text.
Speaker 1: Weeks of quick check ins, no real conversations, just calender
Speaker 1: logistics on the occasional love you. I've tried face signing him,
Speaker 1: just for funny. He didn't answer. Called his number. After
Speaker 1: a few rings, he picked up. Hey babe, he said.
Speaker 1: Some clouter in the background muffled. He sounded a little breathless, happy,
Speaker 1: Hi it, I said, he's sound excited when a tour
Speaker 1: de France out there? He laughed lightly, but then there
Speaker 1: and in the background, the soft, slightly musical voice, not
Speaker 1: shrieking or roud him, more like someone telling a joke
Speaker 1: than a low laugh. Definitely not one of the guys.
Speaker 1: A tone I didn't recognize anyway, harp I wish Dylan's
Speaker 1: said sorry, they're telling old stories just finished up. I'll
Speaker 1: see you in the morning. Okay, have fun, I said,
Speaker 1: forcing brightness. As I ended the call, I caught a
Speaker 1: glimpse of myself in the microwaves reflection. I bro was
Speaker 1: drawn together, leftspurst. I hesitated only another moment, looking down
Speaker 1: at the n Tusk's second plate I put out for him.
Speaker 1: Then I just poured myself or rifilled, and toasted the
Speaker 1: open window to your happiness, wherever you find it. I
Speaker 1: set out, loud, half laughing at my own absurd dramatics.
Speaker 1: Maybe he was just relaxing for months. The cycling club
Speaker 1: had been his way to let off steam. My stomach
Speaker 1: twisted anyway, a dulno right at the edge of my pride.
Speaker 1: I decided to force it down. I tappt my post
Speaker 1: with a little more palmesan, changed the playlist to something noisier,
Speaker 1: and sat on the couch, promising myself I'd stop overthinking.
Speaker 1: That was the kind of agreement Dylan and I had
Speaker 1: always shared, don't invent croyses. Trust is easier if you
Speaker 1: acted out like muscle memory, believing in the pillow. We
Speaker 1: called it the untested assumption that whatever storm arrived would
Speaker 1: face it honestly together. I fell asleep halfway through a
Speaker 1: run class, still on the end table, his pillow called
Speaker 1: beside me. I told myself it meant nothing. The thing is,
Speaker 1: I remember with crude fiscal clarity. The first time I
Speaker 1: met him, our first real date, we sat at a
Speaker 1: little almost back Ali Rahm and joined in the Old
Speaker 1: Market district. Not because we were hipsters, but because both
Speaker 1: our phones died at the same time made walk so
Speaker 1: we wandered around for twenty minutes in the nerves of newness,
Speaker 1: killing time until a charger became available. Dylan was the
Speaker 1: one who pointed out the absurdity of it. Maybe we
Speaker 1: just talk like in the eighteen hundreds. He'd said, I
Speaker 1: almost batwined through my nose at that and had set
Speaker 1: the tone sarkism, dead pan wordplay. We got side eyed
Speaker 1: by the waitress for laughing too loud. Most of what
Speaker 1: we built tight years since then came from a pattern
Speaker 1: of these tiany every day joys. Fridays were grilling nights,
Speaker 1: windows meant pop from marathons and heated blanket wrestling I
Speaker 1: always lost. Every September we rented my grandfather's ancient drafty
Speaker 1: cabinet State brain or shine, to drink bad wine and
Speaker 1: crack in side jokes about pioneer marathoners. Dylan loved old brick,
Speaker 1: always pointing out the fussy details of any historic building.
Speaker 1: I joked that marketing was about making ugly things beautiful,
Speaker 1: but he'd insist on the sanctity of good bones. I
Speaker 1: could depend on his steadiness, he could count on my
Speaker 1: ability to talk him done after amid career panicaf the
Speaker 1: last year's laos is firm especially. I tried to make
Speaker 1: our home abuffer zone for him. We weren't perfect, but
Speaker 1: we were a team. When my mother had surgery, Dylan
Speaker 1: made her soup and sent me guests to keep me
Speaker 1: sane through the waiting. I'd cover his presentation notes, fielding
Speaker 1: practice questions for his projects when we argued, and we
Speaker 1: did because suddenness was a mutual hobby. It never felt
Speaker 1: like we'd veer off some cliff his parents retired teachers
Speaker 1: from I'd host send us We're jams for Christmas. My
Speaker 1: sister worried I first took to him fast. Friends talked
Speaker 1: about our chemistry, about how real we seemed. I wore
Speaker 1: those compliments like medals. People joked that we'd never break.
Speaker 1: Our fights when they happened, were about things like were friends, wedding,
Speaker 1: Deucci's orror, whose turn to clean the bathroom, Never about trust,
Speaker 1: never about secrets. For I did start to wonder over
Speaker 1: time about little withdraws in him. I'd catch myself repeating
Speaker 1: We're fine, just busy, just tired to any one who noticed,
Speaker 1: maybe because I worried if I said it enough, I
Speaker 1: wouldn't have to examine the cracks. The way he'd started
Speaker 1: organized his life around something I wasn't part of. It
Speaker 1: wasn't that Dylan was ever secret of my nature. He
Speaker 1: looked you right in the eye always. His love for
Speaker 1: structure grounded me. My sister called him mister spreadsheet, and
Speaker 1: it was true. He lived by plans, blocks, tan lines.
Speaker 1: When that shifted, it was subtle, a mist dinner at
Speaker 1: first a week and gone for cleb rides, a slowly
Speaker 1: different rhythm to our shed routines. Then came the cycling phase.
Speaker 1: It started innocent, a birthy gift, sheep's second hand back
Speaker 1: to see if he'd enjoyed a club, as colleague Mark
Speaker 1: had talked about. Next thing I knew. Our entry closet
Speaker 1: was filled with a helmet gloves and little lights thine.
Speaker 1: I loved the idea of him having his own zone,
Speaker 1: but almost over night it felt as though zone became border.
Speaker 1: He joined the club's group, hat, downloaded cycling and training apps,
Speaker 1: started setting his alarm for six on Saturdays. He'd never
Speaker 1: wake up early for anything unless the promise was bottomless
Speaker 1: French toast. What surprised me, though, was how all consuming
Speaker 1: it suddenly became. It was all intervals, a gear ratios
Speaker 1: hydration strategy, diving into the jargon, buying padded shorts and
Speaker 1: what proof jackets. I wondered quietly if it was a
Speaker 1: stress outlet, some new self improvement urge, or just an
Speaker 1: excuse to avoid everything the rest of us cared about.
Speaker 1: There were the receipts, new ankle socks, tire pumps, weird
Speaker 1: imported energy chews, the Amazon packages on the stoop addressed
Speaker 1: only to him, But something else felt off. He started
Speaker 1: humming songs in the show are not the old Eddies
Speaker 1: hits we both loved, but nearer stuff. I didn't recognize.
Speaker 1: Light air popper. He texted at odd times, always quick
Speaker 1: to lock his phone, never sharing some joke he just
Speaker 1: received when I joked about his secret cycling life. He'd smile,
Speaker 1: but I started to realize it never spread all the
Speaker 1: way to his eyes. One Saturday, I went to the
Speaker 1: farmer's market with Sarah and Jen. It was busy, family's
Speaker 1: crowd in to cherry stands, college gets hoarding bouqueten. I
Speaker 1: found myself talking to Jesse, the wife of one of
Speaker 1: Dylan's old cycling friends Tom. I said something about how
Speaker 1: dedicated the club had all become. She looked at me
Speaker 1: kind of blankly, then laughed, you know, I've barely seen
Speaker 1: Tom out the last month. He said, hardly anyone goes
Speaker 1: now unless their training for that marathon. I must have
Speaker 1: looked confused. Dylan kept claiming they were all in the
Speaker 1: grind together. I playfully say, well, maybe Dylan's secretly competing
Speaker 1: for gold at the next Olympics. Jesse laughed a little awkward.
Speaker 1: That'd be a first. I haven't heard about Dylan joining
Speaker 1: a ride since May. She said, But maybe Tom's just
Speaker 1: out of the loop lately. Driving back, I'm molded over.
Speaker 1: Maybe Dylan just needed something solo. Still, the nag was there,
Speaker 1: manual sharp in my mind. Was I being controlling? Did
Speaker 1: he want a space away from me? Or just a
Speaker 1: break from his own routines. At dinner, I half joked,
Speaker 1: maybe you should take me ride and teach me to
Speaker 1: keep up with the club champion. Dylan glanced up, smiling,
Speaker 1: but a bit patronizing. Oddly, trust me, you'd hate it's
Speaker 1: what isn't ere look, babe? Plus those hills are brutal.
Speaker 1: The topic evaporated. He changed the subject to my work,
Speaker 1: to the latest client crisis. I let it drop. Still
Speaker 1: it's done. Some nights after he fell asleep on the couch,
Speaker 1: I'd watch him mouth slack, one hand curled under the pillow,
Speaker 1: and try to remember if he'd always needed this much distance,
Speaker 1: if the fact that he rolled away when I reached
Speaker 1: for him was new, or if I'd only just started
Speaker 1: to notice it. I tried to rationalize. Maybe I was
Speaker 1: just feeling insecure, Maybe he needed his own thing. Maybe
Speaker 1: that strange laugh on the phone was innocent, somebody's girl
Speaker 1: friend of the bar, not worth mentioning. But I closed
Speaker 1: the door on my curiosity harder and harder. Each time
Speaker 1: they've little things started to accumulate, which is how doubt
Speaker 1: always sneaks in. More and more Dylan's stories failed to
Speaker 1: line up in the small practical ways I'd once taken
Speaker 1: for granted. For instance, he talked about the new club
Speaker 1: rut they'd been using along the lake out of curiosity,
Speaker 1: partly as a joke, partly from habit as a marketing analyst.
Speaker 1: I downloaded their public group rides online to see if
Speaker 1: I could spot one of his approval hills. No such
Speaker 1: route showed in any recent events. Their last two rides
Speaker 1: barely skimmed the west Side, entirely different from the harder
Speaker 1: pills dill And kept describing. I opened a cycling up
Speaker 1: on my tablet. All his rides lately were marked private
Speaker 1: or missing altogether. When I pressed, he shrugged, claim he'd
Speaker 1: forgotten to sink the app without his GPS, bugged out
Speaker 1: mundane staff, except that he was suddenly so keen on
Speaker 1: metrics and stats everywhere else. It nagged at me like
Speaker 1: a missing puzzle piece. Mid July, I found a receipt
Speaker 1: folded into his backpack two breakfasts and coffee at a
Speaker 1: little spot across town, a place had never been. The
Speaker 1: address was distinctly not off the Jameson Highwood, where he'd
Speaker 1: claimed that day's ride to him. When I asked about
Speaker 1: it later he tossed off, Oh we all got hungry
Speaker 1: and ended up deetering, and then he disappeared into the shower,
Speaker 1: humming coffee, the song I'd now heard three times, but
Speaker 1: never with me. It wasn't just geography. At dinner time,
Speaker 1: Tilan started keeping his fum face down. Sometimes he'd light
Speaker 1: up at a text and quickly stand up too, just
Speaker 1: colmac brief conversations in the hall, mostly in a voice
Speaker 1: too low for me to overhear, ending abruptly when he
Speaker 1: returned with tight eyes and already made compliment about my
Speaker 1: dinner or a new show we could stream. He became
Speaker 1: suddenly wary about plans. The movie night tradition he'd never
Speaker 1: cancel was abandoned midmonth with excuse that he needed to
Speaker 1: rest up for the early ride. But when I checked
Speaker 1: his riding app didn't show that he'd even set out.
Speaker 1: Saturday mornings when he used snuggle and talk about nonsense
Speaker 1: before we both went, always he'd begun before my alarum,
Speaker 1: and when he got home there'd be no stories about
Speaker 1: misadventures or club antics, just more tough for cut vagueness.
Speaker 1: One weekend, my friend sound texted me mid afternoon with
Speaker 1: a weird question. So Dylan at water Street books a day,
Speaker 1: is he still pretending to hate serious novels? I was surprised.
Speaker 1: Dylan said he'd be on a one hundred mile ride
Speaker 1: that took him clear out of the city all morning.
Speaker 1: When I brought it up, Dylan just shrugged, smiling a
Speaker 1: little too much. I had to cut short. Met up
Speaker 1: with the guys for coffee. You know how I get
Speaker 1: about back talk. No big deal, except the law was
Speaker 1: so specific and so necessary. Curiosity got the better of me.
Speaker 1: A friend's barbecue track down Mark, the one who'd gotten
Speaker 1: Dylan into cycling to begin with. I asked, casual as anything,
Speaker 1: whether he was ready for the club's next big event.
Speaker 1: Mark blinked, which one the charity ride? I filled in,
Speaker 1: smile frozen. He frowned, sipping his beer. I haven't heard
Speaker 1: about anything big, actually, he hesitated. I haven't been out
Speaker 1: with Dylan since the spring. He's doing more solo stuff lately.
Speaker 1: I guess, at least that's what he said last time
Speaker 1: we texted. You'll have to ask him. His tone was freely,
Speaker 1: but his eyebrows pinched together. Something about it set my
Speaker 1: teeth on edge. Back home, I watched his weekend after
Speaker 1: week in, Dylan drew a little further. He started protesting
Speaker 1: when I suggested we grabbed dinner with my family or
Speaker 1: head up to the cabin o, a ritual retreat, the
Speaker 1: one place he'd always called sacred. Instead, he claimed rise,
Speaker 1: or exhaustion, or the ever present press of too much work. Meanwhile,
Speaker 1: friends kept notes and changes. Dylan wants this silent brooder,
Speaker 1: as Jem put it, suddenly effusive, more energetic, cracking jokes
Speaker 1: at parties, calling through phases of restlessness. Some one teased
Speaker 1: him at a group brunch, you've got a second wind, man,
Speaker 1: what's your secret? Dylan laughed, fingered his coffee cup. I added,
Speaker 1: maybe he's on performance, and hanswers, hoping for a flash
Speaker 1: of the old dynamic. He said nothing, smiling crookedly. I
Speaker 1: excused myself to the restrument for the first time in years,
Speaker 1: locked myself and splashed my face with cold water. That night,
Speaker 1: I stayed up, calling through the random for to as
Speaker 1: Dylan had accumulated, mostly just city shots, his sneakers propped
Speaker 1: up by the same mural or a park bench, coffee
Speaker 1: forever in one hand. The patterns urged always two cups
Speaker 1: on the table, always some object out of place, a
Speaker 1: book that looked nothing like his usual picks, or a
Speaker 1: woman's sunglasses barely visible on the edge of a frame,
Speaker 1: a shadow of light hair caught in the mirror behind him. Accidents, maybe,
Speaker 1: but I couldn't stop feeling like I was glimpsing fractions
Speaker 1: of another story, a story I didn't belong to. In bed,
Speaker 1: I drew back from him as he slept. I tried
Speaker 1: to remember if the things I were seeing were a
Speaker 1: proof or just the friction of growing up alongside another
Speaker 1: person wanting different things. Every marriage, every couple, every one
Speaker 1: we knew. Didn't they all pass through seasons? Couldn't this
Speaker 1: just be one? But underneath that, a harder voice asked,
Speaker 1: when did your season stop including you? Eventually I decided
Speaker 1: I had to confront something, if not the whole issue,
Speaker 1: just the way I felt so. Over dinner the following Tuesday,
Speaker 1: I asked Dylan lightly if he was starting to feel
Speaker 1: like a professional athlete with all these new cycling routines.
Speaker 1: He gave a genuine sounding chuckle. I allowed the question
Speaker 1: to unfold. It feels like you're always out, babe, says,
Speaker 1: trying to keep the accusation out of my tone. Sometimes
Speaker 1: I'm jealous of your bike. His face relaxed a little,
Speaker 1: a flash of the old humor. You're welcome to it,
Speaker 1: he replied, assuminia wan thighs the size of tree trunks.
Speaker 1: Are you sure you're not just running from old clatter
Speaker 1: at home? I nudge, hoping for some sign of honesty.
Speaker 1: Or is this just your way of coping with work stress?
Speaker 1: He shot me by pausing, picking up his fork and
Speaker 1: fingering the times, the way he always did when trying
Speaker 1: to buy time for an instant. I thought he really
Speaker 1: might say something important, something true. Honestly, work is a mess,
Speaker 1: he admitted, voice low. Too many projects, not enough staff.
Speaker 1: Cycling just helps me clear my head. Sometimes it feels
Speaker 1: easier than dumping it all on you, you know, I
Speaker 1: told myself. I believed him as wary as seems, sincere
Speaker 1: even tender. He watched me, saw that I still wasn't
Speaker 1: quite satisfied, and lay his hand on top of mine.
Speaker 1: If you ever feel like I'm not here, you can
Speaker 1: just say so, he said quietly. Then he squeezed my hand,
Speaker 1: just the way he used to in public when I'd
Speaker 1: need reassuring the next week, he made a few gestures
Speaker 1: towards reconnecting. He suggested dinner at our favorite tas spot,
Speaker 1: attended our mutual friend's birthday, lingered at home over koff
Speaker 1: in the morning. He put an effort, and for a
Speaker 1: few days I wondered if maybe I'd let anxiety drive
Speaker 1: her wedge. And he was right that I just needed
Speaker 1: to trustwort usaw. I confided in Sam about my suspicions,
Speaker 1: half laughing them away. Maybe it's just work for both
Speaker 1: of us. You know how things always pile up when
Speaker 1: you start inventing drama. She tried to convince me it was,
Speaker 1: in fact nothing out of the ordinary. I don't let
Speaker 1: stressy your brain. Sy He's not the type, she said.
Speaker 1: For a while, I let myself lean into that comfort.
Speaker 1: Things seemed almost normal until the week we were supposed
Speaker 1: to go to the cabin. The cabin is a scratched
Speaker 1: up winter with grain deck chairs and a leaky roof
Speaker 1: and a trail only we know by heart. Dylan always
Speaker 1: fuss about it, packing snacks, triple checking whether I've remembered
Speaker 1: the keys. That's Tuesday, two days before we were set
Speaker 1: to go, he announced that he wouldn't make it after all,
Speaker 1: he claimed, blandly but apologetically, that there was a huge
Speaker 1: cycling evented for charity and he couldn't skip out. I
Speaker 1: searched for the event online, certain i'd find it. Nothing
Speaker 1: came up, not on any of the club's events calendars.
Speaker 1: When I pressed him again a joke, maybe I'll come
Speaker 1: hold your water bottle, embarrassed myself for Instagram. He just
Speaker 1: shook his head, lips in a thin smile. It's going
Speaker 1: to be boring for you, babe, he said, you'd hate it,
Speaker 1: plas I'd be too distracted with the race. Can we
Speaker 1: just do the cabin in Augustine's dead? I nodded, but
Speaker 1: my stomach dropped. In his eyes a flicker glint that
Speaker 1: looked less tired and more cornered. I decided I was
Speaker 1: done pretending to myself. The distance was no longer just
Speaker 1: about work hope. That ugly thing dissolved in nothing were
Speaker 1: replaced by something colder and sharper. I stopped asking him
Speaker 1: about the details. If I sound like I'm painting myself
Speaker 1: as a victim, it suddenly, because in those few days
Speaker 1: I genuinely didn't know what to make of the fragments
Speaker 1: in front of me. I lacked any story that made sense,
Speaker 1: except for the uneasy throb of my own instincts, which
Speaker 1: I had always prided myself on ignoring when it came
Speaker 1: to feelings this big. I started checking our share bank statements,
Speaker 1: something I hadn't bothered with the months, not snooping at first,
Speaker 1: I just wanted to set aside enough for the cabin
Speaker 1: food run on my own. It surprised me the little
Speaker 1: pattern of upscale restaurants, ride chairs to neighborhoods. We never visited,
Speaker 1: random purchases, a flower shop, a tea house, the same
Speaker 1: face nearly every Saturday. I tried to construct innocent explanations,
Speaker 1: morating a story about bike people's refuel and urban exploration,
Speaker 1: though by now even I found the fiction laughable. The
Speaker 1: next thing I tried was more intrusive. I found Dylan's
Speaker 1: all day pad, which he had left logged into his
Speaker 1: location app used to coordinate cycling meet ups. I watched
Speaker 1: his Saturday rats over the past month, not out of
Speaker 1: town at all, but mostly clustered around a few parks
Speaker 1: in that unfamiliar cafe entire afternoons. He wasn't out with
Speaker 1: the guys, but in the same two blocks, coffee breaks
Speaker 1: based with irregular precision. I swore softly into the empty kitchen.
Speaker 1: My hands were shaking, a little giddy and fearful, a
Speaker 1: little furious at myself for feeling like a detective in
Speaker 1: my own life. One evening, after Dylan had ducked out
Speaker 1: for a bike maintenance, I scrolled through old photos on
Speaker 1: the cloud drive, matching his advident monk facer feeted the
Speaker 1: show a dedelaid to found under a pile of mail
Speaker 1: perfumes and embedded faintly in the collar. I remembered a
Speaker 1: single goldduring i'd found months ago, waged under the passenger's
Speaker 1: seat of our car. Dylan had said, probably Gensosayer's, so
Speaker 1: I'd never asked again. Now I saw it clear. Sunlight
Speaker 1: clues i'd excused accumulated each one, heavy as a stone
Speaker 1: dropped into a well. Still part of me refused to
Speaker 1: jump to conclusions. Maybe the club was smaller now and
Speaker 1: they just focused on recovery rides. Maybe Dylan was anxious
Speaker 1: avoiding confrontation. Maybe maybe maybe, But the woman's laugh I'd
Speaker 1: held on the phone replayed in memory sharper each time,
Speaker 1: and the way he avoided my eyes when asked about
Speaker 1: the cabin, the brittle energy in his mile, the tin
Speaker 1: set of his jaw as he cleared his plate dinner
Speaker 1: after dinner. By then, I was more certain than I
Speaker 1: wanted to be that I was circling the wrong story
Speaker 1: all along, that what felt like distance had become something
Speaker 1: more walled off, deliberate. I didn't know how to ask
Speaker 1: him for honesty, only how to watch the pattern's calcifire
Speaker 1: round us. I couldn't say what I feed most the
Speaker 1: possibility that the pillar of honesty was already dust, and
Speaker 1: that the rooms of our life together were emptying out.
Speaker 1: In slow, silent increments, I found myself in new habits.
Speaker 1: I'd wake early on weekends now just to check if
Speaker 1: he'd left already. I stopped suggesting plans for Sundays, stop
Speaker 1: leaving notes for him about milk or the dry cleaner.
Speaker 1: I found excuses to stay late at work, measure my
Speaker 1: own avoidance against his. We became polite, careful, practiced on paper,
Speaker 1: still a perfect team in every other way, separated by
Speaker 1: a glass wall. Only I could see when I asked
Speaker 1: myself finally, if I could keep living in the deck
Speaker 1: ledges of uncertainty, what surprised me. Most was in anger,
Speaker 1: our jealousy, but grief, grief for the life I thought
Speaker 1: we had, for the trust had always counted on. For
Speaker 1: the inside jokes, I'd catch myself rehearsing before remembering there
Speaker 1: was no one left to share them with. The cabin
Speaker 1: once our sanctuary waited empty, our calendar remained dotted with
Speaker 1: blank Saturdays. And still I waited, not ready to face
Speaker 1: what might happen. Once I allowed myself to stop pretending,
Speaker 1: I had started forgetting. The sound of us a quite
Speaker 1: rhythm of moving around the same kitchen, two spoons clinking
Speaker 1: in the same ball. Lately, the silence between Dylan and
Speaker 1: me felt loaded, like a waiting room right before your
Speaker 1: name is called, and you know the news will be bad,
Speaker 1: but you try to believe. The nurses smile anyway. Thursday evening,
Speaker 1: after the fake charity ride excuse, I wandered through our bedroom,
Speaker 1: picking up laundry sought in Dylan's cycling gear into a
Speaker 1: neat stack atop the dresser. I paused what I saw
Speaker 1: as energy jel wrappers, still balled up in the back
Speaker 1: pocket of his jersey, sticky and half flattened like forgotten candy.
Speaker 1: Instead of tossing them, I smoothed one out. It was
Speaker 1: a brand I'd never seen in our household. I'm not
Speaker 1: sure why it's stuck with me that detail, except that
Speaker 1: everything about his routines had become familiar, yet not a
Speaker 1: shar becko of our normal. His phone bust from the
Speaker 1: bathroom counter, the haptic rattle, setting my teeth on edge.
Speaker 1: I didn't look, not yet. I wasn't ready to be
Speaker 1: the person who checked a part in his messages just
Speaker 1: because her heart told her to. The irregular from the
Speaker 1: market welted on the table. I couldn't bring myself to
Speaker 1: make a salad, just let the leaves slid her in
Speaker 1: a sticky pile, evidence that I was waiting for him.
Speaker 1: Instead of eating. I kept myself busy, determined not to
Speaker 1: drown in theories, so I texted my sister Miguila. We
Speaker 1: traded jokes about work, but she caught my tongue quickly.
Speaker 1: When are you guys coming over for dinner? She wrote?
Speaker 1: Or are you both social? Hermits now for the first time,
Speaker 1: I almost tied, Actually I think something is wrong. Instead,
Speaker 1: I wrote soon, Dylan's obsessed with the BI club these days.
Speaker 1: I barely see him. Shu responded with the row of Baicimoji's,
Speaker 1: and then that'll pass unless he's training for the tour,
Speaker 1: in which case make him get you a matching on
Speaker 1: sy I almost laughed. Somehow, her total lack of skepticism
Speaker 1: was comforting and infuriating at once. That night, Dylan came
Speaker 1: home light cheeks red here wind whipton. I was starting everyword
Speaker 1: but at me long ride, I asked, folding myself into
Speaker 1: a version of breezy I didn't feel. He dropped his
Speaker 1: backpack and went right to refill his water bottle. Back
Speaker 1: to me longest yet, he called, my legs are destroyed.
Speaker 1: Mark some machine Mark again. I considered mentioning my chat
Speaker 1: with Mark at the barbecue, but I couldn't force the
Speaker 1: words out. I just stood there, watching as he put
Speaker 1: the water bottle into the fridge instead of leaving it
Speaker 1: on the counter like he always used. Your tiny alignment
Speaker 1: off but enough that I felt it you eat, I asked, quietly, Yeah,
Speaker 1: stop for pizza with the guys. Sorry, I didn't check
Speaker 1: in my phone died didn't even get to record the route,
Speaker 1: he said a little too quickly. Did you see Sant today?
Speaker 1: That pivot so deft, so skilled. For a second, I
Speaker 1: envied his ability to shunt the spotlight. I played along,
Speaker 1: talked about Sam's dog, half listening as I watched Dylan
Speaker 1: stretching his legs against the kitchen counter, wincing in what
Speaker 1: might have been real pain. I'll shower, he said, He
Speaker 1: backed my cheek a little distracted, Sorry, babe. After the
Speaker 1: bathroom door clicked shut, I slumped at the table, staring
Speaker 1: at the empty seed across from me. I tried again
Speaker 1: to convince myself, maybe this is what eight years looks like.
Speaker 1: I cleaned up alone, wiping down the counter more times
Speaker 1: than necessary, scrubbing until my hand ache from the friction.
Speaker 1: I told myself, it will all make sense Sunday, looking
Speaker 1: back every couple seasons, et cetera. Except this didn't feel
Speaker 1: like a season. It felt like a sudden drop in temperature,
Speaker 1: no warning frost. That weekend, I went to the cabin alone.
Speaker 1: It rained a whole Saturday thunder rolling over the water
Speaker 1: tree branches, tapping the roof like impatient fingers. I sat
Speaker 1: with an old mug of tea, knees drawn up, scrolling
Speaker 1: through Dylan's social media history, not just the forts, but
Speaker 1: the comments, the likes, the digital crumbs. We all leave
Speaker 1: nothing incriminating, nothing even interesting. The only new friend in
Speaker 1: the last month was a woman named Lauren prof I'll
Speaker 1: pick beside a striking lamp let patio and the glass
Speaker 1: of white wine. No last name, no tags in common.
Speaker 1: I tried to talk myself down work connection or maybe
Speaker 1: she was part of the club, or an architect, or
Speaker 1: just some one whose name came up still iglect. Her
Speaker 1: account was mostly private, but there were a few public
Speaker 1: post Architecture Awards garden photos, a picture of her dog
Speaker 1: on a brick stop remarkably similar to the one outside
Speaker 1: Dylan's office. I tried to make myself stop. I did
Speaker 1: after a minute, locking my phone and letting it slide
Speaker 1: off onto the blanket. Sunday evening, I returned home, empty
Speaker 1: refrigerator and note scribbled on the upside down grocery list,
Speaker 1: gone for a run baksune D. I tucked the note
Speaker 1: into my own pocket, unsure o why it felt like
Speaker 1: more evidence than affection. Monday, at work, I barely listened
Speaker 1: during the old staff calls. At lunch, Jen stopped by
Speaker 1: my desk. Ye okay, she murmured, just quietly enough that
Speaker 1: curiosity didn't tip into concern. Long weekend, I said, too
Speaker 1: much caffeine. She tilted her head. You and Dylan still
Speaker 1: doing Friday grilling sometimes, I lied. She walked wi me,
Speaker 1: clearly wanting to ask something else, but letting it go
Speaker 1: with a force smile. Let me know when you're ready
Speaker 1: for a one night I've stories that will make you
Speaker 1: feel blestedly normal. I thanked her, but her pity's done
Speaker 1: that night, something Emmy snapped. Dylan was working later, wrapping
Speaker 1: up a drafting deadline with Lauren. He texted. I blinked
Speaker 1: at the name Lauren, the same Lauren whose public instagram
Speaker 1: was heavy on rooftop wine and city gardens, never a
Speaker 1: glimpse of a racing bike. I didn't want to be
Speaker 1: the person who started checking, but I was already that person.
Speaker 1: I opened our share bank ap and scrolled through the
Speaker 1: recent activity. There it was again, two dinners, the same cafe,
Speaker 1: a bouquet flower shop out in Riverview. Birthday Dylan had
Speaker 1: written in the memo for one, but whose birthday, not his,
Speaker 1: not mine, not any close mutual. The dates didn't match
Speaker 1: any calendar events. Desperate to banish wild theories, I resolved
Speaker 1: to catch him in a line, not by snooping, but
Speaker 1: by being present. I suggested the surprise lunch the next day,
Speaker 1: taxing him. Can I swing by bring you coffee? He
Speaker 1: replied within a minut Sorry, babe, client lunch at the
Speaker 1: new toper spot, brain jack ah topas the same address
Speaker 1: is one of last week's charges. Sounds good. Maybe we
Speaker 1: tried the sin I row fishing, hating how transparent I felt. Yes,
Speaker 1: Lauren says, the chef is amazing there too, he replied,
Speaker 1: a casual drop. My finger is tingled, not from jealousy
Speaker 1: but from the strange detachment in the exchange. Lauren comes
Speaker 1: up again, Lauren says, Lauren apparently has infiltrated dinner, lunch work,
Speaker 1: the logs of every transaction I tried not to stack
Speaker 1: into a pyramid of speculation. At home that night, Dylan
Speaker 1: came in exhausted, souit jacket thrown over one shoulder, eyes shadowed.
Speaker 1: How's the campaign launch, he asked, tossing his bag near
Speaker 1: the door. Chaotic? What about you? Lunch good? Yes, Alid,
Speaker 1: that new chef knows his stuff. Glad it's over. I
Speaker 1: could eat toast for the rest of the year. I
Speaker 1: ask nothing my performance of normalcy was worrying. Then instead,
Speaker 1: I began to observe Dylan in the way you watch
Speaker 1: an actor in a play. How quickly he shifted from
Speaker 1: anger at work to distract it affect at home. How
Speaker 1: often he caught himself mid sentences if fitted in the details. Later,
Speaker 1: while setting a table for half heart a dinner, I
Speaker 1: found a paper bag wedge behind the toaster, takeout containers
Speaker 1: from a place on the east side. I unfolded the receipt,
Speaker 1: two entrees, a bottle of wine, date stamp Sunday night
Speaker 1: when I've been away at the cabin. The name scrolled
Speaker 1: for pickup was his own, not a delivery. I laid
Speaker 1: the bag on top of his mail, wordless, an invitation
Speaker 1: for him to explain nothing if he noticed it all.
Speaker 1: It was almost a relief when the next Saturday I
Speaker 1: woke to find him long gone, no note, just a
Speaker 1: text writing lost track of time, will be back for
Speaker 1: dinner at love you. The life felt obvious now, so
Speaker 1: I decided to test his edges. Instead of waiting at home,
Speaker 1: I dressed quickly, grabbed coffee in my keys, and drove
Speaker 1: toward the east side, hawk pounding far too fast for
Speaker 1: someone just running in errand. I circled the neighborhood where
Speaker 1: the cafe receipts originated, parking along the main block. I
Speaker 1: told myself I wouldn't look for him up, I to
Speaker 1: just gather proof that what I suspected was only in
Speaker 1: my head. I sipped coffee outside of flooris nose, eating
Speaker 1: at my calm. No sign of him, just a handful
Speaker 1: of jogs trotting pass the city humming with weekend inertia.
Speaker 1: But at a little before ten, there he was, Dylan,
Speaker 1: pushing his back across the crosswork, helmets cue and riding
Speaker 1: shorts in a soft gray shirt. He was not alone.
Speaker 1: Walking beside him a woman, tall, wave like brown hair,
Speaker 1: pulled messly back, sunglasses perched on her head. Lauren. I
Speaker 1: recognized her immediately, her laugh at toffee colored scarf, the assertive,
Speaker 1: familiar way she touched his shoulder when she spoke. They
Speaker 1: stood together at the cafe entrance, talking closely. She reached
Speaker 1: for his arm, casual but proprietary. I walked half turned
Speaker 1: away behind the glass, invisible. I couldn't hear their voices,
Speaker 1: but their posture told me everything. Their mouths did. They
Speaker 1: ordered sat together by the window, leaned in, heads nearly
Speaker 1: touching as they talked. I left before they saw me,
Speaker 1: stomach churning with something past anger, a slow, heavy vinality.
Speaker 1: I drove home with the radio off, hands shaking round
Speaker 1: the steering wheel. Back at the apartment, I paced, I
Speaker 1: stood in front of the mirror and practiced various confrontations,
Speaker 1: hating every militarmatic script my mind offered. Then I just
Speaker 1: sat breathing, listening to the hum of the h VAC
Speaker 1: as the hours bled together and the sun shifted on
Speaker 1: the floor. Dylan returned that afternoon, bounding in as if
Speaker 1: he'd just won a race. Hey, she called, dropping his
Speaker 1: helmet with a clatter. He would not believe this ride,
Speaker 1: a total chaos, lost a chain halfway into the loop,
Speaker 1: nearly ended up at the reservoir. His cheeks were flushed,
Speaker 1: the Lysokris benefitlesce. I marveled at it. He hungry. I
Speaker 1: watched him open the fridge. I couldn't stop looking for
Speaker 1: traces of her. Accused I'd miss notes in the margins
Speaker 1: of our lives. He looked back at me, expectant. How
Speaker 1: is the ride really? I say it, voice flat. He
Speaker 1: glanced at me, expression flickering briefly, discomfort, irritation. I told you, babe,
Speaker 1: madness mock baled early, so I just powered through the
Speaker 1: last five miles alone. A lot of solo rides lately.
Speaker 1: I reply, forcing the softness from my tone. He pulled
Speaker 1: the gatorade from the fridge, mouth twisting, but didn't answer.
Speaker 1: We moved round each other that afternoon with increased care,
Speaker 1: as if too loud a noise would break something fragile
Speaker 1: between us. He retreated for a nap. I field a
Speaker 1: text from Jen, ignored calls from my mother. Let my
Speaker 1: phone collect data, photo's locations, checking again and again, escalating
Speaker 1: from curiosity to obsession. That evening, Dilan suggested take out,
Speaker 1: then a movie. I agreed, not trusting myself to cook
Speaker 1: or talk. Half way to acommedy. Neither of us laughed
Speaker 1: at Dylan checked his phone, typing quickly. I watched him,
Speaker 1: unable to restrain myself. Who's that? I asked, force clipped
Speaker 1: fighting the roge to apologize for asking. He glanced over
Speaker 1: a smile, brittle just Mark updating me on a gear
Speaker 1: shipment by nerd drama. I wanted to scream. I wanted
Speaker 1: to ask, are you lying to my face? Right now.
Speaker 1: But what would that accomplish except dragging the ugly truth
Speaker 1: up before I was ready to see it. Instead, a
Speaker 1: feigned interest tried to reach for his hand. He squeezed mine.
Speaker 1: His grip was warm, but it felt wrong, like clutching
Speaker 1: a branch already splitting at the seams. The rest of
Speaker 1: the night passed and fragments him scrolling through cycling videos,
Speaker 1: me pacing circles in my mind. Monday morning, awoke early,
Speaker 1: checked our joint calendar and his cycling app. He'd scrubbed
Speaker 1: recent rides, no public entries for the past three weekends.
Speaker 1: I stared at the screen, resigned. This was not stress,
Speaker 1: this was method. Like a fool, I kept repling our
Speaker 1: old stories, looking for the moment the current changed, the
Speaker 1: juncture where we stopped being a team. He included in
Speaker 1: everything to a woman he left in the shadow of
Speaker 1: a lie. I called michaela this time, not bothering to
Speaker 1: hide my despair. Something's off, I said, near tears, for
Speaker 1: the first time. I think Delan's lying to me. She
Speaker 1: was silent for a beat. Then what are you talking about.
Speaker 1: He's never home, He's always riding, except I don't think
Speaker 1: he's actually with the cycling club. There's a woman, lorn
Speaker 1: and I saw them together. Her voice softened, but behind
Speaker 1: it was alarm. What are you sure? Maybe it's a
Speaker 1: work thing. It's not just work, it's every week and
Speaker 1: every lie. I saw them together at a cafe. He
Speaker 1: said he was out of town. She didn't try to
Speaker 1: talk me down, not any more. What are you going
Speaker 1: to do? I don't know yet, I whispered. I want
Speaker 1: the truth so badly it makes me sick, but I'm
Speaker 1: afraid of hearing it out. Lad don't confront him until
Speaker 1: you are ready. Just get the facts, then decide, she advised.
Speaker 1: The next days blowed. I caught myself watching Dylan with
Speaker 1: a scientist's distance, logging every smile, every absently humty, and
Speaker 1: every disappearing Saturday morning, I started to cross Jacky's stories,
Speaker 1: comparing his meetings to social posts I found about design
Speaker 1: industry mixers, all featuring Lauren's firm. I noticed now how
Speaker 1: he dressed a little sharper, started using cologne I hadn't
Speaker 1: smelled before. Thursday afternoon, I cleaned out Arka for the
Speaker 1: first time in once, quietly, wanting evidence I could dismiss,
Speaker 1: not confirmation. In the passenger foot well. I found a
Speaker 1: used parking Stupriverview District noon last Sunday, the same time
Speaker 1: I'd been up at the cabin alone. I turned it
Speaker 1: over Hans, trembling only slightly. How many times had I
Speaker 1: missed this? How many times had Dylan sat in that seat,
Speaker 1: warm from some one else's laugh and then come home
Speaker 1: to me with the perfectly folded story ready to tell?
Speaker 1: I called Dylan at work, He answered after the third ring, Hey, babe,
Speaker 1: can I call you back? I'm in the middle of
Speaker 1: something with well Lauren, I said, voice carefully neutral, a
Speaker 1: strangled pause. Yeah, we're doing a sight sketch. Why. I
Speaker 1: just wanted to check about dinner to night. My performance
Speaker 1: was oscar wordy in his restraint. He hesitated, Yeah, should
Speaker 1: be home by seven? Ye want sushi? I made a
Speaker 1: sound of ascent, hung up, and sat heavily on the
Speaker 1: front step, feeling the july he pressed into my skin.
Speaker 1: I wasn't just grieving a relationship. I was grieving a
Speaker 1: reality I'd build out of trust that no longer existed.
Speaker 1: At night, at dinner, I watched Dill and bend over
Speaker 1: his sushi, chopped Eck's poised with boyish enthusiasm, and tried
Speaker 1: to imagine a whirl where everything he said was still true.
Speaker 1: He looked up, grinning, Why so serious? Just tired, I said,
Speaker 1: and smiled, But my smile was brittle, sharp as cut glass.
Speaker 1: Later after, he fell asleep beside me and locked the
Speaker 1: eyepad and quietly mapped another week worth of location pings,
Speaker 1: no bike pats, no club meet ups. The core of
Speaker 1: his world had shrunk down to a few neighborhoods, a cafe,
Speaker 1: the river view blocks, and his work with Lauren. I
Speaker 1: closed the tablet a hole click echoing in the quiet room.
Speaker 1: I could not pretend any more. All the evidence in
Speaker 1: the world added up to one horrifying, obvious shape. O
Speaker 1: shape I'd stare at a thousand times without seeing. But
Speaker 1: I still wasn't ready for the confrontation, not while I
Speaker 1: was broken open and raw. Instead, I called into a ball,
Speaker 1: clutching our old pillow, watching the numbers on the clock
Speaker 1: shift into the deep blue hours of morning, and let
Speaker 1: cold's certainty replace the last embers of hope. The next morning,
Speaker 1: arrove gray and unhurried, a culls quite, settling over the
Speaker 1: apartment and passing against the windows like a fog that
Speaker 1: refused to lift. I lay in bed, amoving, listening for
Speaker 1: some trace of Dylan, his footsteps, water running, a dor
Speaker 1: snick closed, but heard nothing except the soft hum of
Speaker 1: our ancient fridge and the distant murmur of traffic beginning
Speaker 1: another worker. I hadn't really slept, not in any way
Speaker 1: that refreshed. My mind processed and reprocessed each detail, a
Speaker 1: scene and scene unmistakable, and what I still tried to
Speaker 1: file away as ambiguous. Only now the ambiguity felt like carradice.
Speaker 1: Dylan inside of the bed was empty, the sheets pulled roughly,
Speaker 1: as if he'd gotten up in the middle of the night.
Speaker 1: I checked my phone. No texts, no note, no riding early,
Speaker 1: don't wait for coffee. For once, I felt grateful for
Speaker 1: being spared, another small performance of togetherness. I pushed myself upright,
Speaker 1: cradled a mug in both hands, and watched steam twine
Speaker 1: away into nothing. I forced myself to eat half a
Speaker 1: banana and a piece of tourist I didn't taste. Then
Speaker 1: I dressed carefully, jeans, a blue tea here, tied up
Speaker 1: a costume of functionality. If I didn't move, the realization
Speaker 1: that I'd crossed the threshold into another kind of life,
Speaker 1: would flatten me? At nine, front lock clicked, I tensed automatically.
Speaker 1: Dylan walked in, dressed in his usual office casual, hair
Speaker 1: damp from a shower elsewhere. He paused, seeing me already
Speaker 1: awake at the kitchen counter. Hey, he said, awkward and strangely, chipper,
Speaker 1: maybe bending his tone in the hope that ignoring everything
Speaker 1: between us might make it dissolve. I held his gaze.
Speaker 1: Did you ride this morning? He blinked, then smile, faintly,
Speaker 1: caught but unwilling to admit it. No decided to skip too. Tired,
Speaker 1: I nodded. We both hovered in the kitchen, unwilling, while
Speaker 1: unable to dress. The yawning chasm now opened between us.
Speaker 1: He reached for the coffee pot I'd already emptied, hesitated,
Speaker 1: then poured water into the kettle and busied himself with
Speaker 1: the microwave. Shoulders hunched. I wanted to scream. Instead, I
Speaker 1: took my bag and scribbled a note about later, and
Speaker 1: left before I could see the look on his face.
Speaker 1: I tried to work, but I made it for only
Speaker 1: half the morning. At my office, answering emails with mechanical precision,
Speaker 1: until I realized I was simply rearranging paragraphs of averting
Speaker 1: every real decision. Even my coworkers seemed slightly blowed, wavering
Speaker 1: around the edges, as if I'd become a ghost. Around noon,
Speaker 1: I docked out and walked for nearly an hour up
Speaker 1: and down city blocks, through the park by the shop,
Speaker 1: to where for years Dylan and I a trace lazy
Speaker 1: Sunday rats on our way to no especial. Every quiet
Speaker 1: corner of the city felt doubled, layered with the memory
Speaker 1: of him, and laid again with the knowledge of betrayal.
Speaker 1: I ended up at a bench by the pond, digging
Speaker 1: my nails into my pond to keep my thoughts from
Speaker 1: spiraling outward into a panic that would make nothing better.
Speaker 1: If I let myself thing too far ahead. The prospect
Speaker 1: of losing not just a partner, but the scaffolding of
Speaker 1: my life threatened to unravel everything. Still, sheer dread forced
Speaker 1: me to acknowledge I could not go back, not to
Speaker 1: how things work, not to the hush of secrets and
Speaker 1: the slow choke of second guessing. Every word exchanged, something
Speaker 1: was broken, and whatever pretense of healing might be possible
Speaker 1: wouldn't begin unless I forced the truth into the open.
Speaker 1: I texted Michael on my walk back, need to talk
Speaker 1: to night. Might need you spare bed, She wrote back,
Speaker 1: almost immediately, A row of hearts and ages say when
Speaker 1: a small kindness. My chest loosened manually. By the time
Speaker 1: I returned to the apartment, Dylan was gone off to
Speaker 1: work or to Lauren. It made no difference. I moved quietly, methodically,
Speaker 1: gathering the evidence I had assembled over the weeks, the receipts,
Speaker 1: greenshots from the bank's statements, the photos from that morning.
Speaker 1: Outside the cafe. I sat with them in my lap,
Speaker 1: running a finger over each edge, weighing the impossibility of
Speaker 1: what lay ahead. Some small, secret part of me wished
Speaker 1: desperately to be wrong, but there was no room for
Speaker 1: fantasy any more. The hourrows and forward, dragging a light
Speaker 1: from the windows, until the living room filled with the
Speaker 1: soft gold of late afternoon. I started a pot of soup,
Speaker 1: stirring without appetite, waiting for the moment Dylan would come home.
Speaker 1: My heart thrumbed between my robes, anticipation and resignation breeding together.
Speaker 1: When he finally pushed through the door, his tired eyes
Speaker 1: met mine with something like caution, hollowed out by exhaustion. Hey,
Speaker 1: he said, sitting his back beside the coat rack, you
Speaker 1: were home early. I steadied my voice as best I could.
Speaker 1: Can you sit down? We need to talk, and I
Speaker 1: need you to actually listen. He drew back, a little
Speaker 1: surprised by my directness, but he lowered himself to the
Speaker 1: far end of the couch, elbows on knees, hands clasped.
Speaker 1: There was no lightning into confrontation. No voice is raised,
Speaker 1: at least not at first, only the long, measured delivery
Speaker 1: of a case that no longer needed a jury. I
Speaker 1: know about Lauren, I said, my voice brittle but unwavering.
Speaker 1: There was no way to ease into it. Now. I
Speaker 1: know you've been seeing her. I know the cycling club
Speaker 1: is a lie. The effect was immediate, a minute hardening
Speaker 1: behind his eyes, malf fluttening, hands tinting. He shook his
Speaker 1: head quick in practice. That's not I think you're blowing
Speaker 1: this out of proportion, souy, my patient snapped. I let
Speaker 1: the evidence tumble out, one detail at a time. The cafe,
Speaker 1: the receipts, the footo's, the location pings. My hand shook
Speaker 1: but my words did not tremble. His face changed than resistance,
Speaker 1: turning into something rour less, defensible. A tightness pinched around
Speaker 1: his brew. For a moment, he tried to rally, claiming,
Speaker 1: it's a work thing. We're just collaborating a lot. She's
Speaker 1: a friend, E Dylan. My voice cracked, but only with urgency.
Speaker 1: I saw you together at the cafe a cross town,
Speaker 1: not at work, not with the cycling club alone, laughing,
Speaker 1: leaning in, I found receipts for dinners and flowers. I
Speaker 1: know it isn't just work, and I think you know
Speaker 1: I deserve more than this. He exhaled suddenly, all the
Speaker 1: tension draining from his posture. His hands went to his face,
Speaker 1: rubbing roughly at his eyes, as if he could remove
Speaker 1: what I'd said by sheer force. Ay', he started, then
Speaker 1: stopped another breath. Okay, you're right, I'm not proud of it.
Speaker 1: The silence was total for a moment, so dans I
Speaker 1: thought I'd never breathe normally again. I want the truth, Dylan, please.
Speaker 1: My voice was quieter but sharper. How long has this
Speaker 1: been going on? And why? Why had it from me?
Speaker 1: While I about everything? He slouched forward elbows on knees.
Speaker 1: When he answered, his voice was low and oddly tired.
Speaker 1: A few months, maybe a little longer. It started small,
Speaker 1: late nights, talking about work ideas. I didn't mean for
Speaker 1: it to happen, I was, I don't know. I felt
Speaker 1: like you and I were just orbiting each other for
Speaker 1: month's light. Nothing fit she Lauren, she saw something in me.
Speaker 1: I guess paid attention made me feel interesting. I guess
Speaker 1: not stuck in the same loop I'd been in. But
Speaker 1: I swear I never meant to hurt you. He looked
Speaker 1: at me, searching my face for some sign of understanding
Speaker 1: or absolution. I pressed on, not letting him off the hook.
Speaker 1: So you lied a week after week because it was
Speaker 1: easier than honesty, or because you wanted both worlds and
Speaker 1: didn't have to choose until now. He pinched the bridge
Speaker 1: of his nose. His next words tumbled out in a
Speaker 1: ragged edge of confession. I wanted to feel alive, Lauren
Speaker 1: made me feel young, creative, wanted, but I never stopped
Speaker 1: caring about it, Sowe. I told myself it didn't mean anything,
Speaker 1: that I could keep both things in some way. I
Speaker 1: kept thinking I'd end it, but then I'd see her,
Speaker 1: and I wouldn't. The rest just got away from me.
Speaker 1: I was shaken now, not with rage or platitude fueled heartbreak,
Speaker 1: but with something harder, grief, rawn jagged. So now, what
Speaker 1: do you love her? Does she know you've been lying
Speaker 1: to meet this whole time? He shook his head. Hi,
Speaker 1: I'm so mixed up. I can't say what a feel
Speaker 1: or what's right anymore. Lauren knows I'm married. She didn't
Speaker 1: want to be the cause of anything. She didn't push
Speaker 1: for an any of this. I lied to her too,
Speaker 1: told her things would change, and not proud. So you
Speaker 1: were a coward. You let us both believe a story
Speaker 1: you went willing to end. You let me think I
Speaker 1: was the only one losing sleep over this. His mouth
Speaker 1: tightened into something like shame, but he didn't deny it.
Speaker 1: I gathered the rest of myself as best I could.
Speaker 1: He always said, on a sea was the pillar. He
Speaker 1: built everything on it, and you tore it down with lies.
Speaker 1: Eight years, Dylan, you burned it down for some one
Speaker 1: who sees he was new. But none of this is newest,
Speaker 1: just hidden. He closed his eyes. I'm sorry, Soe. I
Speaker 1: don't know what else to say I'm sorry for all
Speaker 1: of it. I wish I knew how to knew it.
Speaker 1: The words hung in the room, possible to answer for
Speaker 1: a law minute. We both just sat separate together in
Speaker 1: a room we built but would not share for much longer.
Speaker 1: I stowed, grabbed my back, wrenching my keys from the
Speaker 1: hook by the door. I'm leaving for a few days,
Speaker 1: I said, I can't breathe in here. I'll stay at Michaili's.
Speaker 1: I'll let you know when I need to get my things.
Speaker 1: You can figure out where you'll go after that, but
Speaker 1: I can't. I won't be trapped in this any more.
Speaker 1: He said nothing, just stared at his hands. I paused
Speaker 1: in the doorway, feeling memory for the last word, as
Speaker 1: if any explanation could possibly shrink the distance between us.
Speaker 1: But I only whispered, I wish you told me before
Speaker 1: it came to this, and let the new silence fall.
Speaker 1: I slipped out to the stairwell, the echo of the
Speaker 1: closing door loud and empty hall. I moved quickly, shiving
Speaker 1: things into an overnight back, with little care for what
Speaker 1: matched or what made sense. Just pajamas, a tooth brush,
Speaker 1: and the clothes off the hanners. My hands kept shaking,
Speaker 1: not from cold but from adrenaline. I texted mac Kila
Speaker 1: on my way, don't ask questions yet. As I left,
Speaker 1: I felt suspended between the impulse to scream and the
Speaker 1: knowledge that nothing were to make the truth, not even
Speaker 1: a thousand apologies. The elevator ride down felt endless. Alone
Speaker 1: in the foyer, I tried to center myself, folks in
Speaker 1: on the grip of the bag in my hand, a
Speaker 1: scrape of my shoe against the tail. I called a
Speaker 1: ride chair, not trusting myself to drive, and as I
Speaker 1: waited outside, they are moved heavy and hued around me,
Speaker 1: everything smelling like city heat and impending rain. Message has
Speaker 1: been one from Dylan. I'm so sorry. I need time
Speaker 1: to figure everything out. Please text when you're safe. I
Speaker 1: ignored it, letting the bubbles lie away without opening them.
Speaker 1: I let Michael a poor meat he and tuck me
Speaker 1: up on her couch. Her presents both comforts and painful
Speaker 1: reminder of what families built on trust could feel like.
Speaker 1: My parents were next. They called, after getting my clipped
Speaker 1: message that things on okay with Dylan. The voice shook
Speaker 1: with concern, but I didn't hand out details yet. I
Speaker 1: promised to call when I knew more. I heard my
Speaker 1: mother's voice crackling slightly try to fill the silence with
Speaker 1: plot shoes, and my father murmuring a promise that you
Speaker 1: are not alone. I believe them. Brief breasts like a
Speaker 1: physical ache around my chest, but I close my eyes
Speaker 1: and breathed, grateful for the lifelen. The next day, I
Speaker 1: feeled the awkward calls from friends, some stunned, some whispering
Speaker 1: that if they were honest, they had noticed something felt
Speaker 1: off and won Jen, who just listened and let me,
Speaker 1: saw no questions. Tillian slipped up from the apartment, texting
Speaker 1: that he was at Sam's for a while and wouldn't intrude.
Speaker 1: I only replied with a brief okay. We agreed, haltingly
Speaker 1: to inform our families. I told him that until I
Speaker 1: figured out what I wanted, a therapy discussion our distance,
Speaker 1: I needed time and space. He didn't argue. I returned
Speaker 1: briefly to our apartment. The whole all my curated with
Speaker 1: candles and laughter and confidence. I moved as a stranger,
Speaker 1: the echo of those old rituals now haunting. It struck
Speaker 1: me how much of life was documented and yet how
Speaker 1: quickly it could vanish, just half packed boxes and notes
Speaker 1: in the margins of a calendar, a pair of mugs
Speaker 1: side by side, now mismatched. We put off the hard decisions, legalities, leases,
Speaker 1: what to do with the bed we bought together, and
Speaker 1: the sweaters. Neither of us wanted to clem for now.
Speaker 1: The agreement was simple. If I needed anything, I'd ask.
Speaker 1: If he needed a final conversation, he waited until I
Speaker 1: was ready. That's all either of us had to give.
Speaker 1: A week later, after ordering a rental car in my
Speaker 1: name only, I drove north, just me, the drone of
Speaker 1: the ties on old highway country, radio and static every
Speaker 1: second that passed, stretching the distance behind. I arrived at
Speaker 1: the cabin so low, the air sharp with pine and
Speaker 1: somemmer thunderstorms. I unpacked what I'd brought, too little for comfort,
Speaker 1: just enough for survival, and walked baref across the creaky
Speaker 1: porch to the old wooden dock. The sky was bruised,
Speaker 1: rose and violet, the water of flat mirror interrupted only
Speaker 1: by the rise of official with the slow drift of
Speaker 1: fallen leaves. I stood there, hands in my pockets, the
Speaker 1: husharund me broken only by the cicadas and the far
Speaker 1: away coal of olone on the far shore. This was
Speaker 1: not victory, nor clarity, nor closure, but it was peace,
Speaker 1: if only because it was mine again, unclear the necklace
Speaker 1: Dillan had brought me our first summer here, and let
Speaker 1: it fall into my palm. The metal was warm from
Speaker 1: my skin and seemed insignificant, now weight without meaning. After
Speaker 1: a long trembling exhale, I drew my arm back and
Speaker 1: toss it into the lake. It landed with scarcely a ripple,
Speaker 1: vanishing into the bracks blue. For a few seconds, I
Speaker 1: thought of reaching from my phone, of calling someone, my mother, Michaelo,
Speaker 1: maybe even Dilan, to cut the silence, but I let
Speaker 1: the screen stay black, let the waves carried the noise away.
Speaker 1: I sat quietly on the edge of the dock, like
Speaker 1: stangling above the ink dark water, feeling the cold start
Speaker 1: creep around my ankles, alert and alone in a way
Speaker 1: that was painful but honest. The air turned still and
Speaker 1: cool as the sun dipped. I watched the water's surface
Speaker 1: twyst with faint rings reflecting gold and gray in the
Speaker 1: beginnings of night, and I realized, simple and solid, that
Speaker 1: I would not ignore the voice inside me again. For
Speaker 1: a long time, I let myself exist in that space,
Speaker 1: sitting on the dock, with the air and on around me,
Speaker 1: the knowledge of what Dylan had chosen, on what I
Speaker 1: could not un no zefveeling painfully into the bones of
Speaker 1: my hands and jaw. There was an emptiness to the moment,
Speaker 1: a deep hum instead of an ich that made me
Speaker 1: wonder if when the next crisis inevitably arrived, it might
Speaker 1: break differently through me. The water below shimmered with the
Speaker 1: last regnants of light, and for the first time in weeks,
Speaker 1: I could not imagine myself as half of a pair.
Speaker 1: Inside the cabin a little lamp and forced myself to
Speaker 1: eat something simple, two slices of bread with cheese, three apricots,
Speaker 1: the glass of water laced with lemon. I ignored the
Speaker 1: urge to call anyone, even as my phone vibrated in slow,
Speaker 1: regular intervals from where it lay half hidden beneath a
Speaker 1: pile of bills. Only when I heard a car engine outside,
Speaker 1: a brief snarl, then distant voices fading, did I moved
Speaker 1: to bold the door, just in case some part of
Speaker 1: my old life had followed me here. Unwilling to let
Speaker 1: me vanish. But it was only a neighbor, an echo
Speaker 1: of normalstly I hadn't realized I'd missed, hours slipped passed.
Speaker 1: I built a fire leaf through a batted old book
Speaker 1: I brought but couldn't read, And finally, because there was
Speaker 1: nothing else, I let myself cry. Not the ragged world
Speaker 1: ending tears i'd imagined, not the movie montage out pouring
Speaker 1: of despair, just a steady, bewilder chedding of all the
Speaker 1: small certainties I had carried with me away. Dylan used
Speaker 1: to wrap an arm around me and sleep, sound of
Speaker 1: his laugh in the hallway. How I'd once believed emotional
Speaker 1: honesty was the only thing that could not be faked.
Speaker 1: When the tears finished, I felt depleted, but clean, strip
Speaker 1: of excuses, denials, the urge to carry his I may
Speaker 1: choices for him. I slept finally in the small loft
Speaker 1: bed built by my grandfather. The thunderstorm moving quietly over
Speaker 1: the hills beyond the window. Morning brought a brief brutal calm,
Speaker 1: and then it brought practicalities. I texted my boss, asking
Speaker 1: for two personal days. The exchange was brief. She responded
Speaker 1: with two words and an exclamation point. But I could tell,
Speaker 1: even through the digital remove that she understood more than
Speaker 1: she let on. I made coffee on the rickety stovetop journal,
Speaker 1: a full page, a habit I hadn't kept since college,
Speaker 1: desperate to empty out my head into lines and loops.
Speaker 1: Sometime near noon, my phone buzzed insistently. It was Dylan's
Speaker 1: name on the notification's message after message, each one stacking
Speaker 1: atop the last unanswered. I scrolled through them, only letting
Speaker 1: my as graize the words can we talk? I need
Speaker 1: to pick up some things. Let me know when so.
Speaker 1: I'm so sorry, please. I didn't respond immediately. The boundary
Speaker 1: felt sacred, like some hard one perimeter. I was finally
Speaker 1: strong enough to enforce what his persistence made me uneasy?
Speaker 1: Did he want to fight a plea or only absolution?
Speaker 1: I wasn't willing to find out, not yet. Then MICHAELA called.
Speaker 1: He texted me, she said, the worry in her voice
Speaker 1: barely disguised with exasperation. Dylan, He asked, where you are?
Speaker 1: I told him you were safe and that you'd reach
Speaker 1: up when ready. Did I do the right thing? Yes,
Speaker 1: I say it, grateful, tell him nothing else? She hesitated
Speaker 1: his sons bad zoe like not eating, not sleeping, kind
Speaker 1: of bat A flare of anger spiked inside me, then
Speaker 1: fizzled out. I'd always been the one to hold together
Speaker 1: his crises, to be the structure when our lives stratened
Speaker 1: to tilt. I realized with a painful clarity that I
Speaker 1: did not want that job any more. Instead, I answered,
Speaker 1: he'll manage. He has Lauren, or whatever it is they have.
Speaker 1: Mikhail didn't argue, be sure you don't want me to
Speaker 1: come up. I can bring wine. I almost said yes,
Speaker 1: anything to keep from slipping further into the hole of
Speaker 1: my own thoughts, but I heard myself say no, not yet.
Speaker 1: I think I need to be alone just a little
Speaker 1: while longer. We clicked off gently, her reassurance ringing in
Speaker 1: my ears like a distant bell. I let the phone
Speaker 1: draw face down on the table top. The conversation with
Speaker 1: Dylan left and med. Time moved in odd ways. Afternoon
Speaker 1: thunderstorms rolled in and out, the lake surface stippling under
Speaker 1: gusts of wind. I chopped wood, I swept the porch.
Speaker 1: I sought to shels and repacked some of the guest linens.
Speaker 1: Mindless chaws that helped pass the hours. Every so often
Speaker 1: I felt a twinge of something almost like relief. I
Speaker 1: was not waiting on any one's schedule but my own.
Speaker 1: By late evening, as the sky bled plumbing cornelion over
Speaker 1: the pines, I heard another engine approach, the crunch of
Speaker 1: tires on gravel. As time was decisive, unmistakable. I set
Speaker 1: down the glass I was drying and walked outside, heart
Speaker 1: beating with something acid, bright and painful. Dylan's car pulled
Speaker 1: slowly into the drive, halting ten feet from the porch.
Speaker 1: He got out, moving carefully, face pale and thinner than
Speaker 1: I remembered, already a man in the middle of grief.
Speaker 1: He stood at the edge of the porch, suit case
Speaker 1: in hand, uncertainty and the way his shoulders hunched. I
Speaker 1: didn't invite him forward. I didn't step down to meet him.
Speaker 1: He cleared his throat. I'm sorry to show up. I
Speaker 1: just I needed to see you. There are some things
Speaker 1: we should talk about in person, if you'll let me.
Speaker 1: The sight of him so diminish rewakened a pulse of
Speaker 1: all protection in me that I almost resented. But we
Speaker 1: hadn't finished business, and I was tired of leaving anything
Speaker 1: and said, I nodded, OK. Ten minutes. Then I need
Speaker 1: you to go. He approached, slowly, setting the suit case
Speaker 1: on the bottom step, twisting his wedding band with a
Speaker 1: nervous thumb. I didn't speak first. I'll let the silence
Speaker 1: do the work that words could not sowey, he started.
Speaker 1: I'm not asking for forgiveness, not to day. I I
Speaker 1: just came here to look you in the eye and
Speaker 1: say that everything I did, every lie, every time I
Speaker 1: brush you off for the club, every morning I left,
Speaker 1: was cowardice. I know that now. I didn't just betray you,
Speaker 1: I betrayed myself. I built this life with you because
Speaker 1: I loved you, and I still do. I'm not sure
Speaker 1: that means anything now, but it's true. I swallowed the
Speaker 1: urge to cryd again. So what are you asking for?
Speaker 1: My words came out flat, shown of warm. He hesitated,
Speaker 1: fist twisting color high in his cheeks. I don't know. Closure, maybe,
Speaker 1: or a chance to start over, if you ever want that.
Speaker 1: I ended things with lour and it wasn't what I thought.
Speaker 1: She deserves better too, But I broke this. Sorry, I
Speaker 1: know that. He looked down at his hands, shame radiating
Speaker 1: from him like fever. He once told me, you'd rather
Speaker 1: have an ugly truth than a pretty lie. I gave
Speaker 1: you neither. He deserved more. When I didn't speak, he
Speaker 1: pressed on, unsteady but determined. If staying away is what
Speaker 1: you want, I'll do If you want to talk or
Speaker 1: yell or scream, I'll be here. If you want to
Speaker 1: try and fix this, I'll try until I can't any more.
Speaker 1: But I don't expect you to trust me. I just
Speaker 1: needed to see you to say I see it now,
Speaker 1: I see what I lost. He blinked, fast, fighting for composer.
Speaker 1: I let out along shuddering breath. Thank you for saying it.
Speaker 1: But it doesn't fix it, Dylan, I don't know if
Speaker 1: it ever well. He nodded, slow, accepting. We both knew
Speaker 1: words wouldn't heal the breach, but it was what we
Speaker 1: had left. I watched him struggle to find some comfort
Speaker 1: in a moment, but there was none to be had.
Speaker 1: I'll stay its ends until I hear from you, he
Speaker 1: said quietly. Was rough. If you need to come home
Speaker 1: to pack at yours, if you need me gone, just say.
Speaker 1: There was a pause, a gap heavy with all the
Speaker 1: things we would never get back. I made myself look
Speaker 1: him in the eyes one last time. I wish you
Speaker 1: trusted me with the harp Heart, Dylan. He didn't just
Speaker 1: take yourself away. He took our future. I have to
Speaker 1: live with that, so do you. He nodded, a tear
Speaker 1: cutting down into the bristle of his beard. He reached
Speaker 1: as if to touch my shoulder, then dropped his hand. Defeated,
Speaker 1: he turned, lifted the suit case, and walked back to
Speaker 1: the car head bow. I stood on the porch, arms
Speaker 1: wrapped tight around my ribs, watching as the car crunched
Speaker 1: away into the dusk, tail out flickering like the last
Speaker 1: embers of the fire. After the sound faded, I didn't move.
Speaker 1: I let the dark pool around me, not afraid, not emptied,
Speaker 1: merely changed. I listened to the small sounds of the night,
Speaker 1: the single frog, the snap of a twig, the wind
Speaker 1: worrying the corner of the roof. For the first time
Speaker 1: since discovering the truth, I felt absolutely private in a pin,
Speaker 1: no longer needing to hide it, explain it, or justify
Speaker 1: what I would choose next. Inside I lit the fireplace,
Speaker 1: stacked a few logs, and celt up on the old
Speaker 1: arm chair. With a thin blanket. I watched the flames
Speaker 1: flicker and die, and somewhere in that shifting light, I
Speaker 1: realized the story I had believed in for so long
Speaker 1: was finally over. Outside, the sky was sinking blue above
Speaker 1: the water Mirrord perfectly for a moment before the ripples
Speaker 1: scattered the reflection, and I knew, without ceremony or regret,
Speaker 1: that I would find my own way forward from here.