It became a ritual of tenderness, the small rhythm that closed every day. He called me his little wife, and though part of me laughed at the nickname, another part secretly loved how soft it sounded.
For six years, I believed in that warmth — believed I had found a love that didn’t need proving.
The Night I Couldn’t Sleep
One evening, Ethan told me he’d stay up late to make “herbal desserts” for some friends from his yoga studio. “Go to sleep first, baby,” he said, brushing my forehead with a kiss.
I nodded and turned off the light, but something deep inside refused to settle. It wasn’t fear exactly — just a quiet instinct whispering look again.
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