Subtle

The next few days passed in a blur, but something was different. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it at first, but there was a change in Gray—a subtle shift in his demeanor that gnawed at me.

It started with the little things. Gray wasn’t as talkative as usual, often lapsing into long silences, his mind somewhere far away. He’d always been introspective, but this was different—he seemed distant, almost as if he were avoiding something. Or someone.

When I asked him about it, he brushed it off with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Just tired,” he’d say, his voice a little too light, “meetings have been draining me lately.” And while I wanted to believe him, the excuse felt hollow, like he was hiding something behind those words.

One evening, as we sat together on the couch watching a movie, I noticed how he seemed more focused on his phone than the screen. He wasn’t scrolling or texting, just holding it, his thumb absentmindedly rubbing the edge of the device as his gaze remained fixed on it. His eyes were unfocused, staring at nothing in particular.

I nudged him gently. “Gray, are you okay?”

He blinked, as if coming out of a trance, and quickly set the phone aside. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he replied, his voice a little too quick, a little too eager to reassure. “Just thinking about work stuff.”

“Are you sure?” I pressed, my concern growing. “You’ve been really quiet lately. If something’s bothering you, you know you can talk to me, right?”

He turned to me, his expression softening as he reached out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind my ear. “I know, Babe. I promise, it’s nothing. Just tired, that’s all.”

But even as he said it, I could see the flicker of something in his eyes—a hesitation, a reluctance to share whatever was weighing on him. It wasn’t like Gray to keep things from me, and that only made my unease grow.

The next morning, I woke up to find the bed empty beside me. Gray had already left for work, leaving behind a hastily written note on the nightstand:

“Had an early meeting. Didn’t want to wake you. Love you.”

I stared at the note, my heart sinking. There it was again—that same excuse, that same avoidance. Something was definitely wrong, and I couldn’t ignore it any longer.

Determined to get to the bottom of it, I decided to visit him at the office later that day. Maybe seeing him in his element would help me understand what was going on.

When I arrived, the atmosphere in the office felt different too. The usual buzz of activity was there, but the energy was subdued, as if everyone was walking on eggshells. Gray’s assistant greeted me with a polite smile, but even she seemed more tense than usual.

“He’s in a meeting right now,” she said, her tone carefully neutral. “But he should be done soon. Would you like to wait in his office?”

I nodded, feeling a knot of anxiety tighten in my chest. As I stepped into Gray’s office, I noticed how everything seemed meticulously organized, more so than usual. His desk was spotless, papers neatly stacked, everything in its place. It was as if he was trying to maintain control over something, even as things slipped through his fingers.

I sat down in one of the chairs, my gaze drifting to a photo on his desk—a picture of us from a few months ago, both of us laughing, carefree. The memory felt distant now, overshadowed by the current tension.

Minutes ticked by, and finally, the door opened. Gray stepped in, looking tired but composed. His eyes widened slightly when he saw me, a flicker of surprise crossing his features before he quickly masked it with a smile.

“Hey,” he greeted, crossing the room to kiss my forehead. “What brings you here?”

“I wanted to see you,” I said, studying his face closely. “And maybe check in, since you’ve been so busy.”

He chuckled lightly, but it sounded forced. “Yeah, it’s been hectic. But I’m glad you came.”

I stood up, closing the distance between us. “Gray, I need you to be honest with me. Is everything really okay? You’ve been different lately, and I’m worried.”

For a moment, his smile faltered, and I saw the conflict in his eyes. He hesitated, as if considering telling me something, but then he shook his head, his expression hardening slightly.

“I’m fine, Elina. Really. It’s just work stress. I promise, there’s nothing to worry about.”

But as he pulled me into a hug, I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was holding something back—that there was something deeper going on that he wasn’t ready to share. And that thought made my heart ache.

The rest of the day passed uneventfully, but the sense of unease lingered. Even as we sat together at dinner that night, Gray was quieter than usual, his mind clearly elsewhere. I tried to engage him in conversation, to lighten the mood, but it felt forced, like we were both pretending everything was normal when it clearly wasn’t.

Later that night, as we lay in bed, I reached out to take his hand, squeezing it gently. “Gray… whatever it is, you don’t have to go through it alone. I’m here for you, no matter what.”

He turned to look at me, his eyes softening. For a moment, I thought he might finally open up, but then he just nodded, pressing a kiss to my forehead.

“I know, Baby,” he whispered. “Thank you.”

But as he drifted off to sleep, I lay awake, my mind racing with thoughts of what could be troubling him. The distance between us was growing, and I didn’t know how to bridge it.

And so, as the days continued to pass, I found myself watching Gray more closely, searching for any clues, any signs that might explain the change in him. But no matter how hard I tried, the answer remained elusive, hidden behind the walls he had built around himself.

And it scared me—because I didn’t know how much longer I could stand being kept in the dark.