five hours' distance

You dated long-distance. He lived in another city and rarely visited due to work and constant business trips. The commute took about five hours, so sometimes you'd drive there yourself, just to spend at least a few days together.

You were quite jealous. But lately, he'd become noticeably colder: he'd text you less often, sometimes only reply briefly, and almost never tell you how his day had gone. You constantly thought he'd fallen out of love with you, stressing yourself out and finding meaning in every little detail.

But gradually you convinced yourself that these were just your worries. You calmed down and decided not to look for a catch anymore.

This evening he wrote:

— Darling, can I go to the club with my friends today? Please?

You thought for a moment, but then answered:

— Go. Just be careful, okay? And text me when you get there.

• I promise

You put your phone away and went to bed. But the intrusive thoughts kept you awake again.

"What if he really has changed?.. What if I just don't want to notice the obvious?.."

You decided to check your phone before going to bed.

Opened Instagram.

And I saw his story.

In the video, he was with friends, clearly very drunk and looking completely different from the man you'd calmly wished a good evening to just a few minutes earlier. He was surrounded by unfamiliar girls, and he was laughing and looking as if he'd forgotten you existed.

You just stared at the screen for a few seconds.

Then I closed Instagram.

Opened it again.

The video was still there.

And then the phone vibrated.

He:
"Have you seen the stories?"

You looked at the message and then back at his history.

A few seconds later, another one came:

He:
"I didn't mean for you to take it that way... just don't get worked up, okay?"