Chapter : Questions That Doesn't Seem Like Questions
Marcus had noticed the change before Rosalyn did.
"You seem distracted," he said one evening as they sat together on the couch. His arm was around her, but it felt tighter than before. "Is something wrong?"
Rosalyn kept her voice calm. "Just tired."
"You've been tired a lot lately."
She nodded. "Work has been busy."
Marcus didn't respond right away. He looked at her phone on the table, then back at her face.
"Anyone new coming into the café?" he asked.
Rosalyn felt the question land exactly where it was meant to. "People come and go," she said. "That's how cafés work."
His jaw tightened. "I don't like strangers watching you." jaw tightened.
She turned toward him. "They don't matter.
"I matter," he said quickly. Too quickly.
She reached for his hand. "Of course you do."
That seemed to calm him, but only for a moment.
Later in the evening , Marcus stood behind her as she washed dishes. His reflection stared at her from the dark window.
"You'd tell me if something was bothering you, right?" he asked.
"Yes."
"You wouldn't hide anything from me?"
Rosalyn dried her hands slowly. "Why would I?"
He stepped closer. "Because people leave when they get bored."
She faced him then. "I'm still here."
That answer satisfied him—for now.
But when Marcus finally went to bed, Rosalyn stayed awake. She could feel it clearly now. His care was no longer gentle. It was sharp. Watching. Measuring.
Marcus wasn't afraid of losing her.
He was afraid of losing control.
And fear always made men careless.