Doubt
The drive back home is silent. Not the comfortable kind of silence. The kind that presses against your chest until it’s hard to breathe. Streetlights pass in slow flashes across the windshield as Dominic drives. His hands stay tight around the steering wheel, his jaw set. Neither of us speaks. By the time we pull into the driveway, the quiet feels unbearable.
The engine shuts off. Before he can say anything, I open the door and step out. I walk quickly toward the house, the gravel crunching under my shoes. My hands are shaking again and I hate that he might see it. I reach the front door and push it open.
Dominic is right behind me. The door closes with a soft but heavy click.
“Era.” I keep walking toward the kitchen. “Era, wait.” His firm hand catches mine. “Please,” he says quietly. “Talk to me.” I turn slightly but don’t look at him. “What is this?” he asks, confusion and frustration tangled in his voice.
The moment presses in, heavy and inescapable. The words sit right there in my throat. I want to tell him. I want to say it. But I’m terrified. Because the moment those words leave my mouth… everything changes.
Dominic. My marriage. My whole world. It will all collapse.
“Babe,” he says softly. “Please.”
I finally look at him. My voice comes out quieter than I expect. “You ever get that feeling,” I say slowly, “that something you believed in was already breaking long before you saw it?”
Dominic’s brows pull together. “What are you talking about?”
I swallow. “Like you wake up one day,” I continue, “and realize the person you trusted the most might’ve been the one slowly destroying everything.”
Silence fills the room.
My eyes burn again. “And the worst part?” I whisper. “You don’t even know if you want to hear the truth anymore.”
Because once you do…There’s no putting the pieces back together. Dominic watches me for a long moment.
Then he exhales slowly. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Era.”
His voice is quiet. Careful and not denying. The words hang in the air between us like something fragile neither of us wants to touch. Because the moment we say it, really say it, there’s no going back. I feel something inside my chest sink.
“Just…” My voice cracks slightly. I clear my throat. “Just leave me alone, Dom.”
He takes a small step toward me.
“Era—”
“Please.”
The word comes out softer this time, almost a whisper. For a second it looks like he’s going to argue. His hand lifts slightly, like he’s about to stop me but then he lets it fall. And he lets me go. I turn and walk toward the stairs, my vision already blurring again. Each step feels heavier than the last. When I reach the bedroom, I push the door closed behind me. The quiet in the room is suffocating. I sit on the edge of the bed, then slowly lie back, staring up at the ceiling.
The tears come before I can stop them. Hot. Relentless. Down my temples and into my hair.
Downstairs I hear the front door open. Then close. A few seconds later, the low rumble of Dominic’s car starting. The sound fades as he drives away.
I keep staring at the ceiling. At the familiar cracks in the paint. At the place where the light fixture casts a faint shadow across the room.
For the first time in five years…
I try to imagine a world without him in it. A life where Dominic isn’t the first person I wake up next to. Where his voice isn’t the one calling my name from the other room. Where this house is just a house. The thought breaks something inside me all over again. More tears spill down the sides of my face. Eventually my eyes grow heavy from crying.
The ceiling blurs.
And somewhere between the ache in my chest and the quiet of the empty house…
I cry myself to sleep.
***