Chapter 2: The Doubt
The late-night arguments became a rhythm Ada hated but couldn't seem to stop. They always began with something small: a forgotten errand, a delayed reply, a stray comment. But within minutes, her chest would tighten, her voice would rise, and she'd see the bewildered hurt in David's eyes.
Each time, guilt crushed her afterward. She promised herself she'd do better, that she'd hold her tongue, that she'd silence the ghosts of her past. But when the moment came, those ghosts spoke louder than reason.
At work, Ada carried the weight like an extra shadow. Her colleagues praised her professionalism, her clients trusted her judgment, but inside she was unraveling. Some evenings, she lingered in the office long after closing, dreading the walk home.
David, ever patient, tried to bridge the gap. He left sticky notes in her lunchbox—Thinking of you, I love you more each day. Sometimes she smiled, other times she cried. The notes felt like a lifeline and a reminder of how much she stood to lose.
But the voice inside her remained relentless: It won't last. No man stays forever.