You’ve changed
Chapter one
sometimes I wonder if people notice the exact moment they stop recognizing themselves, because I didn't.
"you've changed." His voice was calm. Almost gentle. The type of gentle that makes me question whether I'm imagining the bite behind it. I looked up from the food I was stirring, spoon still in hand. "What do you mean?" He shrugged casually without looking away from his phone. "I don't know." A pause. "You just have." Silence. I wanted to ask how, but the question died in my throat . instead, I heard myself whisper, "I'm sorry." He looked up at me then, a small smile touched his lips "I know." Was all he said before looking away again drifting back to his phone. No further explanations, no reassurance. Just two words that somehow made me feel like I did something to unknowingly upset him without ever being told what it was. I looked away, my gaze catching my reflection in the kitchen window. Braids tied into a messy bun, oversized T-shirt, dark circles that no amount of sleep seemed to fix. yet I couldn't figure out what was really wrong with me. When was the last time I'd looked at myself without wondering what he saw? . I remained where I was, the spoon still in my hand. The food continued to simmer quietly on the stove, but I barely noticed it, I was searching my mind for what I'd done wrong. ‘You’ve changed’ The words refused to leave my head, changed how? I searched every corner of my mind, hoping I'd pick up on something before he had to say it. Had I been too quiet? Sensitive? Too difficult? Too overbearing? Was I not trying hard enough anymore? Maybe... a sharp smell filled the air. "you're burning it." My eyes widened. "Oh no.." I reached for the pot, but he was already beside me, without a word, he reached past me and turned off the burner. The only sound left was the soft hiss of the pot settling against the metal grate. He looked at the burnt food, then at me. He didn't say a word, he didn't have to, his expression lingered just enough for my stomach to knot. Was it disappointment? Anger? Frustration? Or was he just tired? I could never tell. "I'm sorry." The words escaped before I could stop them. His gaze remained transfixed on me for another second before he turned around to make his way to the door. "I'll be back." The door clicked shut behind him, silence swallowed the room. I stood frozen in the middle of the kitchen staring at the burnt pot as the smell of burnt garlic and thyme clung to the air. Had he left in anger? Or simply just stepped out? I didn't know, and somehow not knowing was always the hardest part.
