Page 10 of Broken Vows

“Hey,” I whisper, trying to keep my voice steady. “I was starting to wonder if you were coming home.”

He looks at the table, his eyes flicking over the candles and the plates. No Smile. No raised brow. No reaction what-so-ever. “Sorry,” he says, “I’m not really hungry. I had to grab something quick right before fixing a power line.”

I bite the inside of my cheek, nodding even though my throat feels tight. I spent hours preparing dinner, hoping it might be a chance for us to reconnect, but now it feels like all that effort was for nothing. “It’s fine,” I say, though it isn’t.

He sighs while running a hand through his hair. “I’m just… I’m exhausted, Lex. Work’s been a nightmare lately.”

“I get it.” I reply, though the words taste bitter.

He doesn’t respond, just sinks into the chair like he’s carrying the weight of the world. I sit across from him, the candles flickering between us. I want to reach out, to hold his hand, to tell him that I’m here, that we can figure this out together. But there’s this invisible wall between us and I don’t know how to break through it.

“So… how was your day?” I ask, trying to sound casual, as if tonight wasn’t supposed to be special.

He shrugs, his eyes on the floor. “Long. Stressful. The usual.”

I nod, watching him, waiting for him to say more. But the silence stretches out, heavy and uncomfortable, until I can’t take it anymore.

“I just thought… Maybe tonight we could spend some time together,” I say, my voice soft. “Like we used to.”

He looks up, “I know. I don’t have it in me tonight.”

The disappointment hits me hard, like a punch to the gut. But I swallow it down, forcing a smile. “It’s okay,” I say, though it’s not. “Maybe another time.”

Jeremy stands, stretching his arms over his head. “Yeah. Another time.”

As he walks toward the bedroom, I sit there, staring at the untouched food.

I blow out the candles and start clearing the table, forcing my tears back. I’ve been trying so hard to be patient, to be understanding, but it feels like every time I reach out, he pulls further away.

When I finish, I follow him into the bedroom, the tension still sitting heavy in my chest. He’s already lying in bed, scrolling through his phone like nothing happened. The sight of him there, so distant even when we’re just feet apart, makes my heart sink. I slip under the covers beside him, careful not to disturb his quiet bubble of exhaustion, but the silence between us feels unbearable.

For a moment, I think about just turning over and going to sleep, burying the questions swirling in my head. But I can’t. Not tonight.

“Jeremy?” I ask softly, not looking at him. My fingers twist in the blanket, bracing for whatever comes next. “Is there… someone else?”

The words hang in the air like a loaded gun, the silence stretching out until I finally turn my head to look at him.

He frowns, lowering his phone as he processes what I just asked. “What? No. Why would you even think that?” His voice isn’t angry, just confused, but it still makes me feel small.

I bite my lip, hating that I even asked, but I can’t help it. “You’ve been so distant, and I don’t know… I guess I just…”

He sighs, setting his phone down on the nightstand and turning toward me. His eyes soften, and for the first time in what feels like weeks, I see the man I know—my Jeremy. “Baby, there’s no one else. I promise. It’s just work. I’m exhausted all the time, but it’s nothing to do with you.”

I want to believe him, and maybe that’s enough for now. I nod, blinking back the sting in my eyes. “It just feels like you’re slipping away from me.”

He shifts closer, his hand reaching out to touch my cheek, gently brushing away the tear that’s forming. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to make you feel like that.”

The warmth of his hand against my skin makes my chest tighten. But this time it’s not from frustration—it’s from hope. Maybe things aren’t as far gone as I thought. Maybe we’re not as broken as we feel.

He pulls me closer, wrapping his arm around me, and for the first time in weeks, I let myself lean into him, letting the steady beat of his heart calm my own racing thoughts. I close my eyes, feeling the weight of his arms around me.

“I love you,” I whisper, my voice barely audible against his chest. I’m not sure if he hears me at first, but then he presses a kiss to the top of my head, his lips lingering just a little longer than usual.

“I love you too,” he murmurs. “I know I haven’t been showing it, but I do.”

We stay like that for a while, wrapped up in each other, and for the first time in what feels like forever, the silence between us feels comfortable. The exhaustion is still there; the problems aren’t magically solved, but for now, this is enough.

Maybe tomorrow will be different. Maybe it won’t. But at least for tonight, I can breathe.

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