The first time I truly noticed it, I almost ignored it.
James had always been protective of his phone.
But now it felt different.
Before our breakup, he could leave his phone beside me without thinking twice.
Now, whenever a message came in, his hand reached for it almost automatically.
One evening, we were eating.
His phone vibrated.
He looked at it.
His expression changed.
Only for a second.
Then he placed the phone back on the table.
I noticed.
"Everything okay?"
"Yes."
"Who was that?"
"Nobody."
I smiled.
"Nobody has a phone number?"
He laughed.
"Just someone from work."
I nodded.
I didn't think much about it.
At least, I tried not to.
The next morning, I woke up early and went to the poultry farm with him.
While we worked, I noticed how comfortable he had become with certain routines.
He knew exactly where everything was.
There were new tools.
New equipment.
Even some things around the farm had changed.
"You've improved the place," I said.
He smiled.
"I had time."
I looked at him.
"During the nine months?"
"Yes."
There was something about the way he said it.
Too quickly.
I didn't question him.
Instead, I helped him carry feed.
Later, I found a small box beneath one of the shelves.
I picked it up.
"What's this?"
James looked over.
"Leave that."
His voice was sharper than usual.
I froze.
He walked toward me.
"Sorry," he said immediately. "I didn't mean to sound harsh."
"It's okay."
He took the box.
"Just some old things."
I nodded.
But my curiosity had already been awakened.
That night, I couldn't sleep.
I kept thinking about the box.
About the phone.
About the changes.
About everything I didn't know.
Then I reminded myself:
He had every right to have a life during those nine months.
So did I.
Maybe I was being unfair.
Maybe I was afraid.
Because after Mohammed, I had become suspicious of everything.
I turned toward James.
He was asleep.
I watched him for a while.
The man who had once begged me not to leave.
The man whose heart I had broken.
The man who had still opened his arms when I came back.
I reached for his hand.
He moved slightly in his sleep and held mine.
My heart softened.
Whatever had happened during those nine months, I told myself we could deal with it.
Together.
I didn't know how wrong I was.
Not because James was necessarily doing something terrible.
But because I had no idea how much our relationship had changed while we were apart.
And some changes don't announce themselves.
They hide inside habits.
Inside silence.
Inside things people don't say.