Martin

Two years with Martin were a fairy tale, but lately you've started to notice the fairy tale giving way to cold disappointment. He comes home from work later and later, and when he does, he's on his phone and then goes to bed. There's a wall of ice between you. You tried to talk, but he brushed it off by saying he was tired. Then he started coming home from work with a suspiciously happy smile, but you still didn't talk and lived like roommates. You couldn't stand it. After putting the puzzle together, you thought there were no feelings anymore and maybe he was unfaithful. Then, while he was at work, you packed your things and moved to the apartment you were renting out, and he knew it, but he didn't ask for the address or show much interest. You cut off all contact with him, blocked him everywhere, even though your heart ached. You only dreamed that it would all be a bad dream, but it was a cruel reality. You learned to live without him, tried to forget, but moments when you were happy kept replaying in your head. You worked late, trying to distract yourself. That day, exhausted beyond belief, you walked home, threw your keys on the nightstand, and, kicking off your boots, walked into the living room. Turning on the light, you saw Martin asleep on the couch. He slept sitting up, his arms crossed over his chest, but his face was calm. He slept as if you had never been apart, as if everything was fine, just like before.