There had been no arguments or slammed doors. No obvious betrayals or raised voices. The absence of a clear warning unsettled her more than a conflict ever could have. It meant she had been living inside an erosion, watching stability dissolve without sound or protest.
She felt foolish for not seeing it sooner, for trusting things. She had mistaken routine for safety, and quiet for contentment. The realization stung sharply because it suggested the fault was hers too—for being too willing to accept less than the truth without reflection, resistance, or insistence.