The distance between them did not close.
If anything, it grew—quietly, steadily, like a crack in glass that spread without sound until the entire surface was weakened beyond repair.
Days turned into weeks, and the space Marshall had asked for became something else entirely. It was no longer temporary. It was not something that would be resolved with a conversation or a shared moment of vulnerability. It had settled into their lives, reshaping everything around it.
Adeline felt it in the way he moved around her—careful, deliberate, but distant. He still spoke to her, still acknowledged her presence, but the warmth that had once defined their connection was gone. In its place was something colder. Something controlled.
He no longer reached for her hand without thinking.
He no longer looked at her like she was the center of his world.
He no longer lingered.
And that was what hurt the most.
The absence of him.
Not physically—but emotionally.
Adeline stood in the kitchen one evening, staring at the pot on the stove, though she had long forgotten what she was cooking. Her thoughts were elsewhere, tangled in a web of memories and doubts she could not escape.
Marshall entered the apartment quietly, as he always did now. The sound of the door closing was soft, almost hesitant.
"You're home," she said, not turning around.
"Yes."
That was all.
No "how was your day."
No "I missed you."
Just that one word.
Adeline swallowed hard, gripping the edge of the counter. "I made dinner," she added, her voice steady despite the tightness in her chest.
"I'm not hungry."
Of course he wasn't.
She turned slowly, her eyes searching his face. "You're never hungry anymore."
Marshall shrugged slightly, setting his keys down. "I eat when I need to."
"That's not an answer," she said quietly.
He didn't respond.
The silence stretched again, thick and suffocating.
Adeline took a step toward him. "Marshall… we can't keep doing this."
He looked at her then, his expression unreadable. "Doing what?"
"This," she said, gesturing between them. "Pretending everything is fine when it's not. Acting like… like we're not falling apart."
His jaw tightened. "We're not falling apart."
"Then what is this?" she demanded, her voice rising slightly. "Because it doesn't feel like a marriage. It doesn't feel like love. It feels like… like we're just existing in the same space, waiting for something to break."
Marshall's gaze hardened. "We're grieving, Adeline. That's what this is."
"No," she said, shaking her head. "Grief doesn't look like this. Grief doesn't make you shut me out. Grief doesn't make you… disappear while standing right in front of me."
He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "I'm not shutting you out."
"You are," she insisted. "You asked for space, and now it's like you've built a wall I can't get through. I don't know what you're thinking, what you're feeling—I don't even know if you still…"
Her voice faltered.
Marshall's eyes flickered. "If I still what?"
Adeline hesitated, her heart pounding painfully in her chest. "If you still want this," she whispered. "If you still want me."
The words hung between them, fragile and terrifying.
Marshall didn't answer immediately.
And that silence…
That silence told her everything.
Adeline felt something inside her shatter.
"You don't," she said softly, her voice hollow.
"That's not what I said," he replied quickly.
"But you didn't deny it," she shot back, tears filling her eyes. "You didn't say anything."
Marshall's expression darkened. "Because I'm trying to think before I speak. Because I don't want to say something I can't take back."
"Or because you don't know what you feel anymore," she said.
He didn't respond.
And that… that was the answer.
Adeline nodded slowly, her chest tightening with a pain so sharp it almost took her breath away. "I see," she whispered.
"Adeline—"
"No," she cut him off, shaking her head. "It's okay. You don't have to explain. I get it."
She laughed softly, but there was no humor in the sound. "Of course you'd have second thoughts. Of course you would. This whole thing… it's complicated. It's messy. It's… it's not what people expect. And now, with everything that's happened…"
Her voice broke.
"It makes sense," she continued, wiping at her tears. "It makes sense that you'd start to question it. Question us."
Marshall stepped toward her, his expression conflicted. "That's not what this is—"
"Then what is it?" she demanded, her voice rising. "Because I'm trying to understand, Marshall! I'm trying so hard to hold onto this, to hold onto you, but it feels like I'm the only one doing it!"
"I'm here, aren't I?"
"That's not enough!"
The words echoed through the apartment, sharp and final.
Adeline's breathing was uneven now, her chest rising and falling rapidly. "I don't need you to just be here," she said, her voice trembling. "I need you to want to be here. To want me. To choose me. Every day. The way you said you would."
Marshall's face tightened, something raw flickering beneath his controlled exterior.
"I did choose you," he said quietly.
"Then why does it feel like you're un-choosing me now?"
The question lingered, unanswered.
Adeline closed her eyes briefly, steadying herself. When she opened them again, there was a quiet resolve there. Painful, but clear.
"I can't do this," she said softly.
Marshall's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"
"I can't stay here," she said. "Not like this. Not feeling like… like I'm forcing you into something you're no longer sure about."
"That's not what you're doing."
"It is," she insisted. "Maybe not intentionally, but it is. And I won't be that person. I won't stay somewhere I'm not fully wanted."
"You are wanted," he said, his voice firm.
"Then why don't I feel it?" she whispered.
He had no answer.
Adeline nodded again, her decision solidifying with every second of silence. "Exactly."
She stepped back, creating physical distance between them, mirroring the emotional distance that had already taken root.
"I think…" she began, her voice shaking, "I think I need to leave. Just for a while."
Marshall's eyes widened slightly. "Leave?"
"Yes."
"For how long?"
Adeline hesitated. Just for a moment.
Then she said, "I don't know."
The uncertainty in her voice made his chest tighten, though he didn't show it fully.
"You don't have to do that," he said.
"I do," she replied. "Because staying here… it's breaking me. And I can't keep pretending I'm okay when I'm not."
Marshall looked at her, really looked at her, and for a brief moment, it seemed like he might say something—something that could stop her, something that could close the distance between them.
But he didn't.
And that silence…
That silence made her decision final.
Adeline swallowed hard, forcing herself to stay steady. "Your birthday is in a few days," she said quietly. "I'll… I'll leave before then."
Marshall's expression shifted slightly, but he said nothing.
"I don't want to make it harder for you," she added. "You should… you should spend that day however you want. Without… without this hanging over you."
Without me, she almost said.
But she didn't.
Because she already knew that was the truth.
Marshall's hands clenched slightly at his sides. "Adeline…"
She shook her head. "It's okay," she said softly. "You don't have to stop me. I already know you won't."
The words were gentle, but they carried a weight that settled heavily between them.
She turned away then, unable to look at him any longer. Unable to face the reality of what was happening.
Behind her, the silence stretched.
And in that silence, everything between them began to fall apart.