Evan and Lara had been married for six quiet years, the kind built on routines that once felt comforting—shared breakfasts, weekend errands, tired laughter after long days. Lately, though, the warmth between them had thinned. Conversations grew shorter, smiles slower, and something unspoken lingered in the pauses.
He told himself it was temporary stress. Work had drained them both, and Lara seemed particularly stretched—jumping at sudden noises, checking locks twice, drifting through rooms with a distracted air she couldn’t explain. Evan tried to ignore the tension, insisting they just needed a bit of lightness, a reminder of easier days.