Silence stretched.
“You’ve been following me?”
“I’ve been watching my wife disappear.”
“It’s not what you think.”
“Then tell me what it is.”
“You told me not to come home.”
“You said you were busy.”
A breath.
“He’s divorced.”
“At least you’re honest about that.”
“Nothing happened. We’re just friends.”
“Friends who choose each other over their marriages?”
She started crying.
Real or not—he couldn’t tell anymore.
“Marcus… please. I made a mistake.”
“Stay at your sister’s tonight.”
“This is my home.”
“Then you should have come to it.”
She rang the bell again.
And again.
Called.
Texted.
Pounded on the door.
Eventually, near midnight, she left.
The house fell silent.
Marcus sat alone, surrounded by memories.
Their wedding photo.
Vacations.
Laughter frozen in frames.
When had it all changed?
He didn’t know.
His phone buzzed one last time.
“I never slept with him.”
Marcus stared at the message for a long time.
Then typed:
“But you wanted to.”
He didn’t sleep that night.
Just sat there until morning came.
Because some endings don’t happen in a moment.
They happen slowly…
Until one night, you finally accept them.
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