Sleep was elusive that night. Every time I closed my eyes, his words echoed in my mind: "Not everything about our marriage… is as simple as it seems." I had tried to convince myself it was just another one of his cryptic remarks, meant to keep me on edge, but deep down, I knew it wasn't. Secrets like that never belonged to casual words—they belonged to danger, to power, to things meant to change everything.
Morning arrived reluctantly. I stayed in bed longer than usual, staring at the ceiling as if the cracks in the plaster might offer some insight into his mysterious thoughts. I wanted to confront him, demand answers, but the thought of facing his calm, unreadable eyes filled me with a tension I couldn't name. What if his secret wasn't just inconvenient? What if it was something that would ruin everything—or worse, hurt me?
When I finally got up, I found him already in the kitchen, sipping his coffee and reading a file I hadn't seen before. The smell of brewed coffee was comforting, but it did nothing to ease the knot in my stomach.
"You didn't sleep well," he said casually, eyes still on the papers.
"I didn't," I admitted reluctantly, my voice softer than I intended.
He didn't look up. "You're restless," he added, a statement, not a question. "Because of last night, because of me, because of… this." His hand gestured vaguely toward the apartment, toward the marriage, toward everything we hadn't said.
I stiffened. I wanted to deny it, to say I was fine, but the truth slipped out before I could stop it. "I don't know how to deal with you," I confessed, bitter and honest.
He finally looked at me, eyes dark, but something almost like… understanding lingered there. "Maybe you don't have to," he said quietly. "Maybe you just have to survive it—for now."
The words struck me harder than I expected. Survive it. For now. Was that what he thought of our marriage? A temporary battlefield, a war neither of us wanted but had no choice but to fight?
I sat at the table, arms crossed, heart racing. "And your secret?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady. "Are you going to tell me, or is that part of surviving too?"
He sighed, leaning against the counter. "Some things can't be revealed yet. Not because I don't trust you, but because the timing isn't right. When the time comes… you'll know everything."
I wanted to scream, to demand the truth, but the tension in the room made my words hollow. Instead, I nodded stiffly, pretending to accept it, though the fear in my chest didn't diminish.
For the first time, I realized that surviving him, understanding him, and even resisting the pull he had over me, wasn't just going to be a challenge—it was going to be a test. A test I wasn't sure I could pass, and one that might cost more than I was willing to pay.
And yet, despite the fear, despite the uncertainty, I couldn't stop myself from noticing the subtle things—the way he moved, the quiet dominance in his presence, the faint warmth in his eyes that didn't quite match the cold he usually carried.
I hated it. And I hated myself for feeling it.