The wedding was a week away, and Tim had started unraveling in small, strange ways. He snapped at his father over nothing, went quiet at dinner, and disappeared into his room earlier each night. Nothing dramatic, nothing that screamed for attention, but Julia noticed because she’d spent a year learning his rhythms. “Pre-wedding nerves,” Mark said, not quite meeting her eyes either. “Big change for a kid.”
Julia wasn’t so sure. She started asking Tim directly — carefully, over ice cream, during car rides, whenever they had a quiet minute alone. “Is everything okay? You can tell me anything.” He always said he was fine, but his fine had edges now, clipped and unconvincing. Three days before the wedding, she tried again while helping him with homework at the kitchen table.
“Tim. Something’s bothering you. I’d rather you tell me than watch you carry it alone.” He set his pencil down and looked at her, really looked, for the first time in weeks. “You really want to know?” Something in his tone made her stomach drop before he’d said anything else.