Two years into the marriage
"You hurt your leg?" Henry's voice was casual, but his eyes lingered on my foot with too much attention.
I nodded.
The air between us felt heavy, too heavy for two people who used to talk for hours without ever running out of things to say.
An awkward pause stretched between us.
"How long has it been?" He finally asked, offering me a smile. But It wasn't the same easy, genuine smile I remembered. There was something else behind it. Something I couldn't quite read.
"A little over a year." I answered softly, my voice almost hesitant. "You cut your hair."
His hand flew to his head, fingers combing through the now short strands as though he'd forgotten about the change.
"Doesn't it look good?" He tilted his head slightly.
It did. Henry looked really good. Better than I wanted to admit. But I would never tell him that.
