THE SILENCE IN BETWEEN
837 Words
The house felt different that morning.
It was not loud or violent or broken in any visible way. Nothing had been thrown. Nothing shattered on the floor. Yet the silence that hung in the air was heavier than any argument Emily had ever known. It pressed against her chest the moment she opened her eyes, as if the walls themselves were holding their breath.
She had not slept.
Not really.
Her eyes burned from crying, her head throbbed, and her body felt stiff from curling into herself all night. Ethan had taken the other side of the bed at first, lying with his back to her, rigid and unmoving. At some point in the night, she realized he was no longer there. The space beside her was cold.
That realization hurt more than his words from the day before.
Emily sat up slowly, wrapping the blanket around herself. For a moment, she simply stared at the door, half expecting him to walk in and tell her it had all been a mistake. That he was sorry. That he had spoken out of anger. That he did not mean any of it.
But the door remained closed.
She stood up, slipped into a robe, and walked out of the bedroom. The living room was neat, untouched, just like the night before. Ethan’s shoes were gone. His car keys were gone. He had left early.
She swallowed hard.
So this was real.
She went into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water, her hands trembling slightly. Every word he had said replayed in her mind, sharp and cruel, cutting her open all over again.
Barrenness.
As if it were a crime.
As if it were something she had chosen.
Emily pressed her palm against the counter, breathing slowly, trying not to fall apart again. She had spent years blaming herself already. Doctor visits. Tests. Silent prayers. Tears she wiped away before Ethan could see them. She had carried that pain quietly, carefully, because she loved him and did not want him to feel burdened.
And yet, when anger came, he had thrown it back at her like a weapon.
Her phone vibrated on the counter, pulling her from her thoughts.
She flinched before picking it up.
A message from Chloe.
Good morning, Em. I wanted to check on you. Also, I just got a message from work. I was selected to join the team for the project trip.
Emily stared at the screen for a long time.
Normally, she would have smiled. She would have felt proud. She would have typed a long reply filled with excitement and encouragement. But this morning, the words felt too heavy to form.
She finally typed back.
That’s great news, Chloe. I’m happy for you.
She added a heart emoji, then locked the phone and set it down.
She could not explain herself. Not yet.
Later that afternoon, Emily sat alone in the bedroom, folding clothes she had already folded the night before. It was something to do with her hands, something to keep her from thinking too much. Her eyes drifted to Ethan’s side of the wardrobe. Everything was still there. His shirts. His jackets. His scent.
She hugged one of his shirts to her chest before she could stop herself.
“I didn’t cheat,” she whispered into the empty room.
Her voice cracked.
She thought of Brian, of how harmless the conversations had been. Words. Laughter. Nothing more. She had blocked him immediately after the fight, not because she had done anything wrong, but because she wanted peace. Because she wanted her marriage.
And still, it had not been enough.
Brian tried calling her, but he could not reach her. His calls went unanswered. Messages went unread. He was restless, anxious, unsure what to do, because Emily had blocked him on all social media handles. Even someone who cared as deeply as Brian could only watch helplessly as the distance widened, unable to cross it.
The front door opened sometime in the evening.
Emily froze.
She heard Ethan’s footsteps, steady and controlled. He did not call her name. He did not look toward the bedroom. He moved around the house like a stranger, careful and distant.
When he finally walked into the bedroom, their eyes met for a brief second.
Neither of them smiled.
“I’m sleeping in the guest room,” he said quietly.
No shouting. No anger. Just finality.
Emily nodded, her throat too tight to speak.
He turned and walked away.
That night, Emily lay alone in their bed, staring at the ceiling. The room felt too big. Too quiet. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to keep warm, but the cold settled deep inside her.
She wondered when love had become this fragile.
She wondered how something she had not done could cost her so much.
And somewhere in the darkness, with tears slipping silently into her hair, Emily realized that even though she was still married, she had never felt more alone.
- Writer
