I believed him.
I truly did.
Life eventually settled down again.
The kids went back to school.
I went back to work.
Daniel went back to work.
The crisis was over.
Or at least… that’s what I thought.
Because slowly, things started to change.
At first it was subtle.
Daniel became glued to his phone. Late nights at work turned into a regular excuse. Conversations became shorter. Colder.
Sometimes he’d snap over the smallest things.
“Did you pay the credit card bill?” I asked once.
“I said I did, Grace,” he snapped. “Stop nagging.”
I told myself trauma changes people.
Nearly dying changes people.
So I gave him space.
And he used that space to drift even further away.
The night everything fell apart started with a good intention.
The kids were staying at my mom’s for the weekend. Daniel had been working nonstop.
I thought maybe we needed a reset.
So I planned a surprise.
I cleaned the house. Lit candles. Ordered his favorite takeout. Put on the nice lingerie that had been buried in my drawer for months.
I even played the music we used to listen to when we first met.
At the last minute, I realized I forgot dessert.
So I ran to the bakery.
I was gone maybe twenty minutes.
