Chapter 81 — Cracks in the Silence
Auri's POV
The mansion was quiet, but the silence felt heavier than usual. Dante had returned late last night, quieter than I had ever seen him.
At first, I told myself it was his work catching up, the stress of business trips, or the weight of his responsibilities. But the more I watched him, the more I realized something had changed. Something invisible had settled between us, like a thin, suffocating fog.
I could feel it in the way he moved around the house—slightly distracted, tense, sharp in tone when I dared approach him. Even his smiles felt smaller, strained.
The subtle distance
"Good morning," I said softly, hoping to start the day on a gentle note.
He glanced up from his coffee, eyes slightly unfocused. "Morning," he murmured, voice flat.
I tried again, leaning closer as I placed a hand on his arm. "You slept okay?"
His hand twitched slightly at the touch but didn't meet mine. "Mm. Fine."
Fine. That word rang hollow in my ears. Something was wrong. My chest tightened.
I tried to ignore it, telling myself I was being paranoid, overthinking. But deep down, the seed of doubt had been planted.
The tension grows
Later, I suggested we have breakfast together in the sunlit kitchen. I cooked lightly, hoping to coax a smile from him, a sign that things could be normal again.
He joined me silently, eating mechanically, responding with clipped answers. Every gesture that had once felt familiar now seemed guarded.
I laughed softly at a small joke I made, and he barely smiled, only glancing at me briefly. The warmth I expected wasn't there.
My heart sank. I had never felt so distant from him, not even during his longest trips.
The tiny betrayals that scream
I noticed little things:
His jacket had a faint unfamiliar scent, something floral yet sharp.
His phone, which normally rested unlocked and easy for me to glance at, now sat face down.
He flinched slightly whenever I leaned toward him.
I felt my pulse quicken. Was I imagining this? Or was something really happening—something he wasn't telling me?
I wanted to ask. I wanted to demand answers. But I didn't. I didn't because the thought of confronting him—of forcing the truth out—terrified me.
Auri's fear and frustration
I tried to focus on small, normal things. Marcela's latest chaotic story. The absurd pink cake at the park. The pigeons that attacked her in broad daylight.
I told him everything, hoping to draw him in, to make him laugh. But his responses were minimal. Sometimes he didn't even react to the humor, just nodded, eyes distant.
I felt my chest tighten with a mix of fear and frustration. I hated that I couldn't reach him. Hated that I wanted to cling to him despite the growing sense that he was slipping away.
A subtle confrontation
I couldn't stay silent forever.
"Dante…" I started, voice trembling slightly. "Is something… wrong? Are you… hiding something from me?"
He looked at me then, eyes meeting mine briefly, and I saw a flicker of… guilt. Fear. Something he didn't want me to know.
"No," he said quickly, almost too quickly, voice tight. "Nothing. I'm fine, Auri. Really."
I wanted to believe him. I did. But every instinct screamed that he was lying.
I could feel the distance between us growing, stretching thin like a thread about to snap.
The pressure of suspicion
The rest of the day passed in quiet tension. Every glance, every movement, every half-smile he offered me now carried weight. I could no longer ignore it.
I tried to distract myself by calling Marcela, recounting small stories of the day, trying to laugh. But even Marcela noticed the change in me.
"You okay, Auri?" she asked, after a pause in my chatter.
I sighed, my chest heavy. "I don't know, Marcy. Something… feels off with Dante. I can't explain it. He's here, but he's not… really here."
Marcela frowned. "Do you think it's… someone else?"
I shook my head, trying to dismiss the thought, though the seed had been planted. "No. I don't know. I just… I can feel it. Something's wrong."
The emotional fallout
That night, as we settled in the bedroom, I tried again to reach him. I rested my head against his chest, hoping he would pull me close like before.
But he flinched slightly. He stiffened. He kissed my hair, yes—but the warmth I expected, the trust, the intimacy, the connection… it was missing.
I closed my eyes, fighting the tears that threatened.
I wanted to believe in him. I wanted to trust him. I wanted to cling to the man I had fallen in love with.
But the cracks were showing.
And no matter how much I wanted to deny it, I could feel the storm approaching—a storm that would test everything we had rebuilt.
The lingering doubt
As I lay awake, staring at the ceiling, I whispered to myself:
Dante… whatever it is, I need you to be honest with me. I can forgive so much, but I cannot bear to lose you to shadows I cannot fight.
The room was quiet. The mansion was still. But the silence was heavy, suffocating. And I knew, deep down, that tonight was only the beginning of a truth I was not yet ready to face.