I stared at those five words until my vision blurred.
When I returned to the apartment, Ryan was standing in the kitchen drinking coffee.
He glanced at me.
“How was it?”
“Uncomfortable.”
“You’ll get used to it.”
I waited for him to laugh.
He didn’t.
He kissed my forehead as if nothing unusual had happened, grabbed his lunch, and left for work.
That should have been the moment I called my mother-in-law.
It should have been the moment I called my sister, my doctor, my best friend—or anyone who loved me.
Instead, I took a shower and told myself it had only been one night.
For illustrative purposes only
It Became a Routine
The second night, Ryan placed my keys on the kitchen counter before we even went to bed.
The third night, he carried my pillow to the front door for me.
By the fourth night, he didn’t need to say anything.
