Yet Emily couldn’t shake the feeling that everything in their home had subtly shifted — like the air had changed, like love had been replaced with something colder, quieter, harder to see. In the days that followed, James grew quieter. Not the kind of quiet that came from exhaustion, but something heavier.
He moved through the house like a guest, answering Emily’s questions with half-hearted nods, his attention elsewhere. He sat at the dinner table most nights, staring at nothing, his food untouched. When Emily asked if he was feeling okay, he said he was just tired. When she brought up the baby, his shoulders tensed almost imperceptibly.