Clara watched him from the edge of her sleep, his silhouette against the blue hospital light. She knew he loved her. But love was starting to look different now — quieter, thinner, stretched between what he felt and what he could bear.
In the days that followed, he began to fade in small ways. A shorter visit. A call he didn’t answer right away. A message he forgot to return. None of it meant anything on its own, but together they formed a pattern she couldn’t ignore.