I didn’t realize I’d jumped until I was already falling.
We married quickly—probably too quickly.
Our marriage lasted only six months. There were no dramatic fights or betrayals, just a slow, quiet unraveling. Arthur didn’t pull away emotionally so much as practically. Date nights stopped. Conversations about the future faded.
I told myself it was the strain of blending families or unresolved grief. When we separated, it was peaceful, and I told everyone it was mutual. For a while, I even believed that was true.
We wished each other well, and I assumed he’d become just another closed chapter in my life. I couldn’t have been more wrong.
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