Chapter8:Fading betweenUs
1286 Words
The aroma of baked potatoes and smoked fish floated through the dining room, mingling with the faint hum of the evening rain outside.
The house was unusually quiet,too quiet for a Friday evening.
Fridays had always been their little ritual, a tradition born out of love and consistency.
No matter how hectic the week was, they always sat down for dinner together, just the two of them. No friends, no phones, no distractions.
It was a tradition they were consistent with to catch up with everything that had transpired all through the week.
But tonight, everything felt… off.
Remi stood at the dining table, adjusting the neatly folded napkins, aligning the cutlery one last time before stepping back.
Her reflection in the wine glass stared back at her, weary eyes, a forced smile. She smoothed her red dress, which Miguel had once said made her look like a sunset. But that was before. Before the distance. Before the silence.
She heard the front door open and shut.
Miguel’s deep voice drifted in, low and casual, as he greeted someone on the phone.
He was laughing, a kind of laughter that didn’t reach her anymore.
Remi’s chest tightened.
She could already tell tonight would not be different from the last few Fridays.
“Miguel” she called softly, stepping into the living room.
He looked up briefly from his phone, a flicker of surprise passing over his face before indifference replaced it.
“Hey,” he muttered, eyes already back on the glowing screen.
“You’re late,” she said, trying to keep her voice gentle.
“Traffic,” he replied curtly, tapping something quickly before sliding the phone into his pocket though only for a moment.
She sighed quietly.
“Dinner’s ready.”
He followed her into the dining room, but his mind was elsewhere.
Normally, he would pull out her chair, brush a kiss against her forehead, and joke about her culinary “experiments.”
Tonight, he simply walked past her, sat down, and scrolled through his messages.
Remi stood there for a moment, staring at him. The seat beside her remained untouched.
“You forgot,” she said softly.
“What?” He didn’t look up.
“The chair,” she murmured. “You forgot to pull out my chair.”
He exhaled impatiently.
“Remi, please. I’ve had a long day. Can we not start?”
Her throat tightened. She pulled out her own chair and sat down, her hands trembling slightly as she adjusted her napkin.
“I wasn’t starting anything,” she whispered, even though her heart was pounding.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The only sound came from the steady ticking of the wall clock and the occasional buzz of Miguel’s phone.
Remi watched him pick at his food absentmindedly, barely tasting it.
Every few seconds, his phone would li up, and his attention would drift to it like a moth to flame. He’d smile faintly — that same subtle, secretive smile she hadn’t seen in weeks, except when he looked at his phone.
“Who’s that?” she asked finally.
He blinked, glancing up as if startled. “What?”
“The one making you smile like that.”
“Just business,” he said flatly.
“Nothing you’d be interested in.”
Her lips twitched, a bitter laugh almost escaping. “Business, huh? Do business texts usually come with emojis and midnight calls?”
Miguel’s fork clattered against his plate. “Remi, can we not do this now?” His tone was sharp, defensive.
She swallowed hard, forcing her eyes down to her food. “You’re right,” she murmured. “We shouldn’t ruin dinner.”
But dinner was already ruined.
He barely ate, pushing his food around with mechanical motions.
The once vibrant conversation that used to fill their evenings, laughter, teasing, stories from the week was now replaced by silence so thick it pressed on her chest.
Remy’s eyes drifted to the candlelight flickering between them. Its glow reflected in the wine glasses, soft and warm, but even that seemed fragile now, like a love that was fading faster than she could hold onto it.
She remembered how he used to look at her , with that slow, melting gaze that made her feel like the only woman in the room. Tonight, he didn’t look at her once.
“Miguel,” she said softly, trying again, “you used to talk to me”
“I’m talking now,” he said without emotion, his eyes still on his plate.
“No, you’re answering,” she corrected. “That’s not the same thing.”
After a pause
“You didn’t even notice my new hair”she said as she stared at him
He looked up at her. Then he sighed heavily and leaned back in his chair. “Remi, I don’t know what you want me to say. I’m just tired, alright?”
She smiled sadly, tears glimmering in her eyes. “You’re always tired these days. Tired when I call, tired when I ask about work, tired when I try to touch you…” She paused, her voice trembling. “But not too tired to stay up texting whoever that is.”
His jaw tightened. “Enough,” he said, a low warning in his voice.
Remi stared at him, her heart breaking quietly. This was the man who used to bring her breakfast in bed, who’d dance with her in the kitchen barefoot, who’d trace the lines of her palm and say, ‘See this? It’s where you belong — right here.’
Now, he couldn’t even meet her eyes.
She picked up her fork again, trying to swallow a mouthful, but it tasted like ash. “Do you even remember why we started this Friday dinner thing?” she asked softly.
He didn’t answer.
“You said we should always make time for us,” she continued, voice barely above a whisper. “No matter how busy life gets.”
“My schedule is tight, Remi,” he muttered.
She froze. “You are not even trying to create time for us”
He didn’t respond. Instead, he picked up his phone again, the blue glow reflecting in his eyes.
Something inside her snapped.
She reached across the table and gently covered his hand. “Miguel,” she said, her voice trembling.
“Look at me. Just once. Please.”
He hesitated, then finally lifted his gaze to hers. What she saw there wasn’t anger or guilt, it was emptiness.
“I don’t even know who you are anymore,” she whispered.
He pulled his hand away.
“Maybe that’s the problem.”
The words hit her like cold water. She stared at him, searching for a trace of the man she loved, the man who once fought to keep her. But there was nothing.
After a long silence, she rose from her seat. Her chair scraped softly against the floor, the sound echoing through the still room.
“Dinner’s over,” she said quietly, gathering her plate.
“Remi” he called out to her without any remorse.
He didn’t stop her. Didn’t apologize. Didn’t move.
Remi carried the plates to the sink, her vision blurring. As she rinsed them under the running tap, she heard him chuckle faintly, another message, another glowing screen.
She wiped her tears with the back of her hand, her chest hollow. The rain outside had stopped, but inside, everything felt soaked in silence.
That night, as Miguel sat alone at the table scrolling through his phone, the candle between them flickered weakly before finally going out.
And with it, something in Remy’s heart did too.
- Writer
