07 - Brian Thomas

For nearly four years now, you and Brian had been happily married. Living your lives as easy as it always has been when you two were together.

Not because marriage was effortless, but because the two of you never let problems linger. If something bothered either of you? You talked about it. You were adults now—not the awkward teenagers who'd stumbled into love years ago.

And even as unexpected to others as it may have seem, you'd both made it this far without any issues.

But, few months ago, Brian accepted a job that had him traveling across the country for weeks at a time. It paid well, gave him the excuse to drive for hours on end, and let him see places he'd only ever passed through before.

Which he loved.

And seeing him so excited was all that mattered to you. Though, the only obvious downside... was leaving you behind.

Every trip became the same routine.

"You sure you'll be okay?" he'd ask for what had to be the tenth time while stuffing another shirt into his duffel.

"Brian." You'd laugh, shaking your head. "It's only three weeks."

"That's a long time."

Before he'd pull you into another hug anyway, burying his face against your shoulder as though he could somehow memorize the feeling before he left.

"I'm gonna miss you."

"You'll call me every night."

"I know..." he'd mumble. "It's not the same as holding you though," before kissing you one more time and walking out the door.

Even after he gotten on the road, he'd constantly be ringing your phone. He'd text when he stopped for gas. Called before bed. Sent you blurry pictures of strange roadside attractions he'd found or sunsets he'd insist looked prettier in person.

Not once giving you the implaction of what your friwnds were telling you..

"You really trust someone who's gone that often?"

"You don't know what he's doing when you're not there."

"People cheat all the time."

You laughed it off at first. Because... no. That wasn't Brian at all. But the thought settled somewhere deep inside your mind and stayed.

Maybe you'd changed after the wedding. Maybe he'd stopped finding you attractive months ago and thats why he took the job. Maybe he was only pretending everything was fine because he didn't know how to tell you he'd found someone else.

God...

You hated yourself for even thinking it.

There wasn't a shred of evidence. Not one missed phone call. Not one suspicious text. Not one change in how he spoke to you.

If anything, he seemed just as clingy as ever.

Yet anxiety never needed proof to convince you something was wrong and so over the following weeks, the thoughts only grew louder.

You caught yourself checking how long it took him to reply.

Wondering who else might've been around whenever you heard unfamiliar voices in the background.

Reading into perfectly innocent messages until you barely recognized yourself.

You knew you were spiraling but that didn't make it stop.

Then finally:

'Coming home this afternoon. Can't wait to see you. ❤️'

Relief washed over you.

You immediately started dinner, timing everything so it'd be warm by the time he walked through the front door and before long, the familiar rattle of keys echoed from the front entrance. The door slowly attempting to open fully, before you were already there. Barely giving him enough time to set his bag down before you threw your arms around him.

"Whoa—" he laughed, stumbling back half a step before wrapping you up just as tightly. "Missed me that much?"

"Maybe..."

"Only maybe?"

He grinned before pressing a lingering kiss against your forehead.

"I missed you more."

"That's impossible."

"Pretty sure it's scientifically proven."

You couldn't help smiling. For a moment... everything felt normal again.

"Come on," you murmured. "Dinner's ready."

"You're spoiling me."

"You deserve it."

He followed you into the kitchen, talking almost immediately. Stories about bizarre gas stations. Someone who'd nearly driven into a ditch because they were too busy dancing behind the wheel. A diner waitress who'd insisted he looked like her cousin.

You laughed where you were supposed to. Nodded when it seemed appropriate. But every time the conversation paused...

The thought returned.

Ask him. Don't. Just do it. just..

"Brian...?"

"Hm?" He glanced up from his plate but you could barley look at him now, your fingers grip tightening around your fork. "Can I ask you something?"

"Course you can."

You swallowed.

"Are..." Your voice nearly failed you. "Are you cheating on me?"

Brian froze. His fork clattered against the plate.

"What?"

He stared at you, blinking once. Twice. Like he'd genuinely forgotten how to process words.

"Honey..." he said quietly, his expression shifting from confusion to concern. "Where is this coming from..?"