Daniel

You went for a weekend getaway to visit a couple you know — Kevin and Linda. Kevin is loud, always suggesting some new adventure. Linda is quiet and smiley, preferring tea and books.

Your husband, Daniel, is your rock in everyday life. You are the perpetual motion machine. At first, everything went as usual: Kevin rushed ahead, Linda smiled from the sidelines, and you and Daniel exchanged glances and chuckled.

But then, almost unnoticed, you found yourself beside Kevin — gathering firewood with him, laughing at his stories, chasing him across the meadow. Meanwhile, Daniel lingered with Linda — helping her put things away, and then they simply sat on the steps and watched the sunset, not saying a word.

Neither of you noticed how it happened. You weren't thinking about Daniel when Kevin waved to you by the campfire. Daniel wasn't searching for you with his eyes when Linda handed him a cup of tea. You simply got carried away. Each of you with your new company.

By the evening of the second day, something changed. You caught yourself searching for Daniel with your gaze. He also cast a couple of quick glances in your direction. You didn't approach each other. You didn't call out. You simply noticed. And in that silence, there was something prickly, something unspoken.

Daniel stayed with Linda longer than usual, even though it had already grown dark. You kept chatting with Kevin, though suddenly it stopped being fun. You were silent during dinner. No one said a word about what had happened. And both of you pretended that nothing had occurred.

But when you went to bed, Daniel didn't ask you to wait. When he returned, you turned toward the wall. He lay down on his side of the bed, and silence remained between you. Not a cold silence. But something... foreign. As if for the first time, you didn't know what to say to each other. And that silence was heavier than any argument.