We were cuddled up on the couch, the faint glow of the TV dancing on our faces. For once, everything felt normal. I had my arm around her, she rested her head gently on my shoulder, and the warmth of that moment tried to convince me that maybe—just maybe—I was overthinking everything. But then I noticed it... not a gesture, not a word—just a tiny flicker in her eyes. A brief shadow of guilt, or maybe discomfort. Or maybe my head was too messed up to tell the difference anymore.
As night crept in, that familiar unease began to grow inside me. The kind that always seems to strike right before sleep. I turned off the lights and lay beside her, trying not to think about tomorrow. But the moment I remembered she'd be going to the old man's house again, a chill ran down my spine. It was like the air around me suddenly froze. I reached out for the medicines, convincing myself that I was just being paranoid. She told me everything last time, right? She had nothing to hide. Just sleep. Just trust.
The morning came far too fast. My eyes were still heavy, but work doesn't wait. I dragged myself up, rubbed the sleep off my face, and headed to the table. Breakfast was light but pleasant. We even shared a couple of jokes, and for a moment, her laughter made me forget all my worries.
But then, casually, like it was just another thing on her to-do list, she said it.
"Oh, it's time I head to the old man's house."
And just like that, my chest tightened. It was like a hand had reached in through my mouth and was now squeezing my heart, hard. I tried to act normal. I wanted to say "Oh sure, take care." Keep it casual. Play it cool.
But nothing came out.
I just sat there and watched her walk to the door. Then the sound of the latch clicking shut behind her. It echoed through the room like a shot.
My thoughts began to spin again, louder than ever. Still, I tried to be rational. Tried not to fall into the same pit again. I walked up to the study, sat at the desk, and told myself there was no need to look through the window. I was better than that today.
Ten whole minutes passed.
Ten.
Then I told myself, maybe just one glance. Just to ease the mind.
I stepped towards the window and moved the curtain slightly—but froze. The window was covered. Thick curtains drawn shut. That never happened before.
My heart thumped. I tried to convince myself: maybe it's hot. Maybe the sun was too bright. Yeah… maybe.
But my mind? It wasn't buying it.
It kept whispering—that curtain's hiding something.
I felt like I was losing grip, like I was stranded alone on some island, wounded, helpless, left with only shadows to talk to. But I tried, I really tried to shift focus back to work. I sat at the desk again, forcing my eyes to read, my fingers to type.
Another thirty minutes passed. That was forty in total now. She should be here any moment.
I remembered last time she had some errand to run. Maybe today's the same. Maybe she just lost track of time.
Twenty more minutes ticked by.
I stood again, heart louder now, beating in my ears. I peeked outside.
The window curtains were still drawn.
Still no idea what's happening inside.
It was driving me insane.
I walked out of the study, into the living room, pacing a little, trying to look casual. I didn't want her to think I was waiting like a madman. I wanted to appear calm, natural.
Then the door opened.
I stayed quiet, didn't move from my spot in the living room, but my ears were on full alert. I listened.
I heard her steps. But something was off.
They were light. Too light. Almost cautious. As if she was trying her best not to make a sound.
Like a thief.
Like someone trying to sneak past without being noticed.
Then she turned towards left and stopped dead in her tracks when she saw me. She flinched. Like I'd caught her in something.
Our eyes met. My stare must've pierced through her, because her expression cracked for a second before she forced a smile.
"H-hey honey. Sorry, a bit late… you know, errands…"
Yeah. Errands. I had already told myself errands might be the reason. But what kind of errand makes a person walk like that? Like they're hiding something?
She must've noticed the doubt on my face, because she added, "I didn't want to disturb you while you were working."
I nodded, half-smiling. "Oh is that so? I was just here to freshen up a little…"
Before I could even finish the sentence, she took a step back and spoke quickly.
"I'm all sweaty from the errands. I'll take a bath."
And just like that, she turned and walked away, heading to the bathroom.
But as she passed by me… I caught it.
That smell.
The faint, disgusting stench of that old man.
But it wasn't just that. There was something else. A fragrance. A sweet, flowery perfume… something that didn't belong to her. Something I had never smelled on her before.
Weird.
Maybe she liked it and tried something new on the errand? Maybe the stench was from helping the old man again?
Maybe...
Maybe…
I stood there, unsure if my mind was racing ahead of reality again… or if I was slowly uncovering something I wasn't ready to face.