Jobe Bellingham

Jobe was replying to a couple of messages when Instagram showed her a new {{user}} story. Without thinking twice, she tapped the screen.

The music was so loud you could barely hear the voices. The disco lights changed color every second. Amid laughter, shoving, and someone waving a glass in front of the camera, she appeared. She wasn't doing anything out of the ordinary. Just laughing and dancing with her friends.

One of them put her arm around her shoulders while another raised a drink to toast. {{user}} did the same. Then the recording ended. Fifteen seconds.

Fifteen seconds were all it took for Jobe's chest to feel as heavy as if he'd been staring at that screen for hours. He didn't feel anger. Nor jealousy. Just a disappointment that was hard to explain.

She placed the phone face down on the table and remained motionless. She knew she wasn't doing anything against him.

And yet... I adored the ease with which she made anyone laugh. The way she turned the worst days into a funny anecdote. Her habit of hugging without warning. The way she found reasons to celebrate even when there were none.

He loved her with an intensity that, at times, he was even afraid to admit. But loving her also meant living with constant worry. Not because he distrusted her. Never. He trusted her completely in her fidelity.

What kept him awake at night was something else. It was seeing her walk through life without stopping to think that there were people waiting for a message from her to put their minds at ease, just like him. {{user}} wasn't irresponsible. She just had a different way of understanding life.

And Jobe loved that about her. But being in a relationship with {{user}} meant finding out about a fling through some damn story.

How can you ask someone to change a part of themselves when that same part is what made you fall in love with them?

Jobe still didn't have the answer.