Peyton Moormeier: Someone else's name in your head.

We met at work five years ago. I was a junior specialist, he was a project manager. He didn't look at me until I made a mistake in a report. After a meeting, he came up to me and said:

• You made a mistake, but you are the only one who admitted it.

I thought he would swear, but he smiled.

• Come tomorrow, I'll show you how to do it right.

I came and he showed me. Soon we started dating, and a year later I became his wife.

I remember that day: he looked at me as if I were the only woman in the world. He whispered, "You are mine forever." I believed him. I lived by that belief.

We lived in perfect harmony for four years. He was the perfect husband: he brought me flowers, called me in the middle of the day, surprised me with trips and gifts. I thought we could overcome any difficulties. I was wrong.

It all started with little things: he started staying late at work, answering messages with a smile I hadn't seen in a long time, he stopped looking at me when I spoke to him. His gaze would wander off somewhere, as if he were looking for someone else.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“Yes,” he answered without looking at me.

• Do you love me?

“Of course,” he said, but his voice sounded empty, as if he were uttering memorized words that he himself did not believe.

I wanted to believe him, but my heart knew the truth. I felt it every night when he turned his back on me. Every morning when he left without kissing me.

One evening we were sitting in the living room watching a movie. I was lying on his shoulder, feeling his warmth, and I almost believed that everything was okay. And then his phone vibrated. He looked at the screen, and his face tightened. He didn't pick up, just turned the phone facedown.

“Who is this?” I asked.

"A work call," he replied. "I don't want to be distracted right now."

• Show me.

• Why? It's just work.

I sat up, looking at him. Inside, everything was boiling.

• You don't pick up your phone when I'm around, you hide your phone, you lie to me. I know you're hiding something.