The morning sun barely filtered through the heavy curtains, but it was enough to wake me. The room was cold, the bed empty on one side. Jayden was gone. Again.
I stared at the empty space beside me, the sheets untouched since he left, wondering how we got here—married, but somehow strangers in the same house.
My fingers grazed the silver band on my left hand. His gift, his promise. A promise that felt fragile, like glass ready to shatter at the slightest touch.
I rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling, shadows shifting like memories.
---
When Jayden proposed, it was like the world stopped.
I remembered that night—the candlelight reflecting in his eyes, the way his hand trembled when he held mine, the hope I allowed myself to feel.
I said yes.
I wanted to believe in forever.
But forever had a way of changing shapes, twisting into something unrecognizable.
---
My phone buzzed on the nightstand, jolting me back to the present.
A message from Jayden.
We need to talk.
The words hit harder than I expected. I didn't want to talk. I didn't want to face whatever storm was coming.
But the note on my pillow from last night echoed in my mind, sharp and unsettling: We can't keep pretending.
Pretending what? That everything was fine? That his smiles hid the anger I caught in his eyes?
---
I got up and moved to the window, the city below still waking up, unaware of the battles fought behind closed doors.
I pulled my jacket tight around me and headed outside.
Jayden was there, leaning against the brick wall, just like last night. But this time, the look on his face was different. Less anger, more desperation.
"Jayden," I said quietly. "What is going on?"
He pushed off the wall and took a step toward me. "I'm sorry I scared you."
I frowned. "You don't get to decide what scares me."
His eyes flickered with regret. "I know. I just—"
He stopped, searching for words.
"I'm not the man you thought I was," he finally said.
That admission hit me like a punch.
"I don't know who I am anymore," he whispered.
I wanted to reach out, to hold him, to fix whatever was broken. But my hands stayed by my sides, trembling.
---
"Jayden," I said softly, "I'm scared. I don't want to lose you. But I'm even more scared of losing myself."
He swallowed hard, eyes misting over.
"I don't want to hurt you," he said.
"But you already are."
---
The truth hung between us like a thick fog.
We stood there, two broken souls trying to hold on.
But deep down, I knew—
Love wasn't always enough.
---
Later that day, I found myself staring at an old photo of my mother.
She was smiling, but her eyes told another story.
The story I promised myself I'd never repeat.
---
"You deserve better," my mother had whispered once.
But how do you choose better when you're caught in the fire?
---
That evening, Jayden returned.
The tension in the air was almost unbearable.
He reached for me, but I pulled away.
"Amara," he said, voice rough. "Please."
I looked at him, seeing the man I married—the man I still loved buried beneath the cracks.
But I was afraid.
Afraid the cracks would swallow us whole.
---
As night fell, we sat in silence, words unsaid hanging heavy.
And then, the sound of his phone buzzing shattered the quiet.
Jayden's face went pale.
He looked at me, eyes wide.
"It's... work," he lied.
But I could see the fear.
The secrets.
The lies.
---
I didn't know what was coming next.
But I knew one thing—
The silence between us was burning.
And soon, everything would ignite.
The phone vibrated again, its soft buzz breaking the fragile quiet between us. Jayden glanced at the screen once more, his hand tightening around the device like it was a lifeline—and a noose all at once.
I wanted to ask who was calling so urgently, but the words caught in my throat. Instead, I watched him, trying to read the storm brewing behind his eyes. There was something he wasn't telling me. Something that weighed heavier than the world.
"Jayden," I whispered, voice barely more than a breath. "What is it?"
He didn't answer right away. His gaze drifted to the window, to the darkening sky outside as twilight seeped in.
Finally, he said, "Work's been... complicated lately."
His words felt hollow. I knew work was a convenient excuse for everything we didn't say—the fights, the silences, the cracks widening between us.
I reached out slowly, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead, hoping to find the man I fell in love with beneath the shadows.
He closed his eyes for a moment, leaning into my touch like it was a shield, then pulled away. "I don't want you to worry," he said, but the tremor in his voice betrayed him.
I swallowed the lump rising in my throat. "Jayden, I'm already worried."
He looked at me then, the weight of everything pressing down on him, and for a heartbeat, the world fell away. But then the hardness returned—like steel wrapping around his heart.
"I'm trying to protect you," he said, but his eyes said something else. "From me."
That hit harder than any blow. Because maybe that was the truth all along. That the man I married was fighting battles I didn't understand, and I was caught in the crossfire.
---
The room felt smaller, the air thicker. I needed to breathe, to run, to scream—but I stayed rooted to the spot.
"I don't know how to fix this," Jayden admitted, voice cracking.
"Neither do I," I whispered.
We were two broken people, desperate for healing, but scared of the scars we carried—and the ones we might leave on each other.
---
The night deepened, and silence wrapped around us again. But this silence was different—tense, charged, waiting.
Suddenly, my phone buzzed on the table. A new message.
I picked it up with trembling hands.
"You're not alone."
No sender.
No explanation.
A chill ran down my spine.
Who was reaching out to me in the dark?
Was it hope? Or another secret waiting to be uncovered?
---
I looked at Jayden. His eyes were heavy with exhaustion, but also something else—fear.
Fear of losing me.
Fear of losing himself.
---
And in that moment, I knew the fight between us was only just beginning.
stared at the message again—"You're not alone." The words echoed in the silence of the room, strange and haunting. My fingers trembled as I traced the screen, searching for meaning where there was none. No sender, no name, just a sentence so simple, yet it unsettled me deeply.
I looked up at Jayden, whose expression had shifted from exhaustion to something harder, more guarded. He watched me, eyes narrowing slightly, as if sensing the change in my mood.
"Did you get that?" I asked, voice barely above a whisper.
He nodded slowly. "Yeah. Someone's been sending those texts for days."
I felt a shiver run down my spine. Days? Why didn't he tell me sooner?
"Why didn't you say anything?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
Jayden rubbed the back of his neck, a gesture I'd come to recognize as a sign of discomfort or guilt. "I didn't want to worry you. I thought I could handle it."
But I wasn't so sure anymore. The secretive tone, the late-night phone calls, the cold distance between us—all the signs were there. I was living with a man whose demons were slowly swallowing him whole, and I was helpless to stop it.
---
I sank into the couch, wrapping my arms around myself like a fragile shield. Memories of my mother flooded my mind—the way she carried her pain silently, like a weight she refused to drop. I promised myself I'd never be like that. I promised to fight, to speak out, to never let silence become a prison.
Yet here I was, trapped in a silence thicker than any prison wall.
"Jayden," I said softly, "you have to let me in. I can't help if I don't know what's happening."
He looked at me, pain flashing in his eyes. "I'm scared, Amara. Scared that if I tell you the truth, you'll leave."
"Maybe I will," I admitted, voice cracking. "But maybe staying in the dark will destroy us both."
---
The room felt colder suddenly, and I shivered despite the warmth of the blanket around my shoulders.
Jayden moved closer, hesitating before he sat down beside me. His hand found mine, tentative but desperate.
"I want to fight for us," he said. "But sometimes I don't know how."
I swallowed hard, the ache in my chest growing. "Maybe the first step is honesty."
He nodded, taking a deep breath.
"I've been fighting my past," he said. "Things I thought I left behind but keep pulling me back. It's like living with a shadow I can't outrun."
I wanted to reach out, to tell him he wasn't alone. But the weight of my own past pressed down on me—memories I'd locked away, afraid they would consume me if I looked too closely.
---
The hours slipped by as we sat together, the silence between us softening, becoming less threatening.
But just as I allowed myself to believe in a fragile peace, my phone buzzed again.
A new message.
"Look behind you."
My heart stopped.
I glanced at Jayden, who was already staring at me, confusion and alarm etched across his face.
Slowly, I turned around.
There was nothing.
No one.
Just the dim light casting long shadows on the walls.
---
But then I heard it.
A soft creak behind the door.
And the unmistakable sound of footsteps.
---
My breath caught in my throat.
Someone was here.
Watching.
Waiting.