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The Growing Distance
A year passed, and Grace began to feel like a guest in her own marriage.
Dinner conversations grew shorter. Ethan was always tired, distracted, his attention drifting whenever she spoke. When she reached for him in the dark, her hand met only the cool emptiness of the bedsheet.
He hesitated, his expression soft but firm. “She only rests when I’m beside her,” he said. “Please understand. She’s been through so much. Just for a little while, okay?”
Grace nodded, but her heart sank.
That “little while” stretched into another year. And then another.
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