Chapter 5

The Beginning of Distance

The next morning, Elena removed her wedding ring before breakfast.

She placed it beside her coffee cup.

Seven years.

She had worn it through all seven years.

Now it sat quietly on the kitchen island as pale morning light spread across the room. Beyond the windows, low clouds drifted over the city, turning the skyline silver and cold.

Elena stared at the ring for a long moment.

“You’re up early.”

She looked up.

Adrian had already showered. His dark hair was still damp, his sleeves rolled neatly to his forearms.

His gaze moved toward her.

Then stopped at the ring.

A small silence settled between them.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Elena said, lifting her coffee.

Adrian walked toward the espresso machine.

“You're not wearing your ring.”

“It felt uncomfortable.”

He glanced at it again.

Then at her.

The espresson machine hissed softly.

Usually, Elena would have filled the silence. She would have asked about his schedule, his meetings, or whether he wanted dinner at home.

This morning, she said nothing.

Adrian looked at her.

“You’re quiet again.”

Elena almost smiled.

“I’m thinking.”

“About?”

She watched the steam rise from her coffee.

“Life.”

A faint crease appeared between Adrian’s brows.

“You’ve been acting differently since last night.”

“Maybe I’m just tired.”

His eyes moved toward the ring.

“Tired enough to stop wearing it?”

Elena looked at him.

“Forgetting anniversaries is uncomfortable too.”

Silence.

Adrian rested his hands against the counter.

“I already apologized.”

“You explained.”

His expression tightened.

“I had meetings all week.”

“And I had a marriage all week.”

Adrian stared at her.

“Elena.”

She stood before he could continue.

“I should get ready.”

“Elena.”

She stopped at the doorway and turned.

Adrian looked unsettled.

“I didn’t realize it mattered that much to you.”

Elena held his gaze.

“That’s the problem, Adrian.”

Then she walked away.

By afternoon, the penthouse felt suffocating.

Elena wandered from room to room without settling anywhere.

His books.

His schedules.

His routines.

Everywhere she looked, she saw pieces of the life she had built around him.

Even the flowers in the living room had been chosen because he had once mentioned preferring white roses over red.

She stopped beside them.

When had she become so easy to overlook?

Her phone vibrated on the couch.

Daniel Reed.

She hesitated before answering.

“Hello?”

“You sound exhausted.”

She gave a small laugh.

“Is everyone suddenly becoming emotionally observant?”

“You left quickly last night.”

“I was tired.”

“You keep saying that.”

Elena looked toward the windows.

Daniel was quiet for a moment.

“Listen... I probably shouldn't say this.”

Elena sat down.

“What?”

“Adrian doesn't always notice how much he's hurting someone until it's too late.”

“What does that mean?”

“He's spent most of his life thinking stability means happiness.”

Elena was quiet.

Stable.

Their marriage was stable.

She had always thought that was enough.

Now she wasn't so sure.

“He doesn't understand that people leave emotionally before they leave physically.”

Elena lowered her eyes.

“I’m not planning to leave Adrian,” she said quietly.

Daniel was silent for a moment.

“I think you stopped convincing yourself of that already.”

Elena said nothing.

The call ended shortly afterward.

She remained seated, staring at her phone.

She didn't know whether Daniel was right.

That was what frightened her.

That evening, Elena stood inside her old art studio for the first time in nearly a year.

Dust covered several unfinished canvases near the walls. Paintbrushes sat untouched in cloudy jars.

She walked slowly through the room.

She used to spend hours here before marriage responsibilities slowly consumed the routines that had once been hers.

Adrian had once loved this room.

At least, she thought he did.

Back when she believed he still noticed pieces of her.

Elena stopped beside an unfinished painting near the window.

A woman stood alone beneath rain.

Half-finished.

Forgotten.

“You still paint?”

Adrian's voice came from the doorway.

Elena turned.

He stood in the doorway, watching her.

His gaze moved across the room.

The dusty canvases.

The untouched supplies.

The unfinished painting.

Elena looked at him.

“Asking that question kind of answers itself.”

Adrian said nothing.

Neither did she.

For once, Elena didn't explain.

She simply stood there and let him look.

For the first time, she wondered if Adrian was beginning to notice what she had lost while loving him.

The thought should have comforted her.

Instead, it frightened her.

She wasn't sure anymore whether she wanted him to notice too late.