We returned to cooking.
But I couldn’t stop thinking about his question.
Even with Tom?
I had spent years building a life that looked good from the outside. Somewhere along the way, I had become so focused on maintaining that life that I had stopped asking whether I felt as happy as I appeared.
Tom wasn’t cruel.
He wasn’t openly unfaithful, at least not to my knowledge.
He paid the bills, worked hard, and provided a comfortable home.
But lately, our conversations had become practical rather than personal.
Mortgage payments. Business trips. Dinner reservations. Weekend plans.
We rarely talked about our fears anymore.
We rarely asked each other what we wanted from the future.
And I had started wondering whether stability had slowly replaced intimacy without either of us noticing.
That realization frightened me more than I wanted to admit.
Later that night, I found Jake in the living room staring at his phone.
