Adrian started spending more time at home.
Not because he had to.
But because he wanted to.
He helped with dinner, brought flowers without a reason, and even laughed—like really laughed—for the first time since our marriage began.
And I started to believe…
Maybe we could make it.
Until he got the call.
---
"Melissa was in an accident."
My blood went cold.
He hung up the phone, grabbed his keys, and didn't even look back.
Just like that, he was gone.
And I was alone again.
---
He didn't come back that night.
Or the next.
When he finally returned, his shirt was wrinkled, eyes red.
"I stayed because she had no one else."
"Did she ask you to?"
He paused. "Yes."
"And you went."
"I didn't do anything wrong," he insisted.
"You didn't have to do anything. You just had to be there. That's what hurt."
He came closer. "Claire—"
"No," I said, stepping back. "She's still between us, Adrian. No matter how far you go, you keep letting her back in."
"I'm not in love with her."
"But you still care."
"I care about you."
"Then prove it."
He stared at me, unsure.
And in that moment, I realized...
I wasn't afraid of losing him anymore.
I was afraid he never fully belonged to me in the first place.
---
That night, I cried quietly on the bathroom floor.
Not because I was weak.
But because I was tired of being strong for someone who still hadn't chosen me completely.
---
The next morning, Adrian sat at the table with two tickets in his hand.
"A trip?" I asked, voice hoarse.
"Three days. Just us. No distractions."
"What about Melissa?"
He looked me in the eyes. "She's not invited."
Neither was our past.