Chapter 3

Honestly, married life turned out to be way more peaceful than I ever imagined.

Ryan worked at an investment firm, leaving early and coming home late every day. He'd head out in a sharp suit, and when he got back, his tie was always hanging loosely around his neck.

I started work later than he did, so by the time I got up, he was already gone. His bed was always neatly made. On the dining table, there would be a glass of water and a sticky note.

The note always said, [Breakfast is in the kitchen.] His handwriting was so neat it looked almost like it had been printed.

At first, I would pause for a second when I saw the note, but after seeing it so many times, I just got used to it.

The breakfast was never the same two days in a row. Sometimes it was oatmeal with some fruit, other times a sandwich and a glass of milk.

I'd sit alone at the dining table, with Ryan's plate and utensils set across from me, always spotless and untouched.

He always left earlier and got home later than I did.

Sometimes I would stay up late on purpose, hoping to catch him at home. I even waited until around eleven once, but he still hadn't come back.

I texted him on WhatsApp to ask if he had eaten, and after half an hour, he only replied, [I already ate.]

I figured Ryan didn't want much to do with me. Having separate bedrooms wasn't enough. He even made sure we never crossed paths.

I told myself this was for the best. Acting like polite, distant people was better than resenting each other. At least things stayed peaceful on the surface.

But I couldn't fool myself. Every time I saw the sticky note on the fridge, or the neatly folded blanket on the couch, a strange, bittersweet feeling would settle in my chest.

He knew I couldn't stand the cold, so the air conditioning in the living room was always set to a comfortable temperature, and there was always a light blanket on the sofa.

I couldn't tell whether I was touched or sad, or maybe both.

Just like that, over a month slipped by, and one day I started to notice something weird.

I couldn't fall asleep at night unless I was hugging my dolphin plushie. For more than ten years, that had never changed. Whether I was at home or traveling, without it, I would be up all night.

But lately, every morning when I woke up, it was no longer in my arms.

At first, I thought I had just been tossing and turning in my sleep, and it had somehow ended up at the foot of the bed.

Every night before bed, I would pick it up and hold it in my arms, but the next morning, it was there again.

After this kept happening for several days in a row, I started to feel that something was off.

I was usually a pretty calm sleeper, so I had never had this problem before. I couldn't help wondering why I had suddenly become so restless at night after getting married.

When I mentioned it to my mom on the phone, she just laughed and said I was probably still adjusting to married life.

"Maybe," I replied vaguely, not daring to tell her that Ryan and I slept in separate rooms.

If she ever found out, she would definitely come over right away.

After hanging up, I stared at my dolphin for a long time. There was a patch on its belly that looked slightly different. It was a faded spot where my tears had soaked in years ago.

Back then, I had just started high school. Ryan had finished his SATs and was leaving for college. The day he left, I stood outside his house for a long time, but in the end, I couldn't bring myself to go up and say goodbye.

When I got home, I hugged my dolphin and cried through the night. No matter how many times I washed it, the stain from those tears never faded.

I sighed, placed the dolphin back in my arms, and turned off the light.

As expected, the next morning, it was at the foot of the bed again.

I decided to be clever about it.

One night before bed, I wrapped it tightly in my covers and held it in bed with me, so there was no way I could have kicked it down to the foot of the bed, no matter how much I tossed and turned.

But when I woke up, it was gone from under the covers. Instead, it was sitting at the foot of the bed, as if it had been carefully placed there.

I sat on the bed and couldn't help but think something was wrong.

Could someone have come in while I was asleep?

Ryan and I were the only ones living in this house.

If anyone had moved my dolphin, it had to be him.

But why would he do that?

He hated even brushing against me. If we accidentally touched, he would pull away. There was no way he would come into my room and touch my things.

I pushed the thought aside, telling myself not to overthink it.

He always kept his distance. There was no way he would come into my room at night.

Maybe I was sleepwalking or something. I had never done that before, but under stress, strange things could happen.

But once that thought took hold, I couldn't shake it.