Amelia
It started with little things.
At first, I thought I was imagining it—the way Ethan lingered a moment longer before leaving a room, the way his eyes flickered toward me during meals, like he was about to say something but changed his mind.
Then there were the other things. The small, almost imperceptible changes in the house. How the thermostat seemed to adjust right when I started to feel a chill. How, at breakfast, there was suddenly an extra cup of coffee waiting at my usual seat, prepared exactly how I liked it.
It was strange. Unsettling, even. Because it wasn’t him. Not the cold, detached man I’d come to know.
Eleanor noticed it, too.
“He’s trying, you know,” she remarked one morning as we sat in the sunroom, her knitting needles clicking together.
I frowned. “Trying wh
