Member-only story
What We Don’t Say
The Weight of Silence
Kate woke before the alarm, Alan’s arm heavy across her waist. Another night of quiet sex that left her staring at the ceiling while he drifted into contented sleep.
She slipped from beneath his arm and padded to the bathroom. The mirror reflected what fifteen years of marriage looked like: still pretty enough, she supposed, but tired around the eyes. Forty-two next month. How had that happened?
Back in bed, Alan stirred. “Time is it?”
“Early. Go back to sleep.”
He reached for her instead, hand sliding up her thigh. Her body responded automatically while her mind wandered to the grocery list, tomorrow’s presentation, the kids’ soccer schedule.
She knew the steps to this dance. The right sounds to make. When to move. When to tense. When to cry out and clutch his shoulders. A performance she’d perfected through repetition.
Afterward, Alan kissed her cheek. “Love you.”
“Love you too.”
And she did. That was the hell of it. Loved his steadiness, his laugh, the way he coached Tommy’s baseball team with endless patience. Loved everything except how they touched each other.
“You’ve been quiet,” Jen said over lunch. They’d been friends since college — the…
