The Shuddering

by Ania Ahlborn

“You stop thinking about it,” she said quietly, casting a glance over her shoulder to make sure the others weren’t eavesdropping. “About the possibilities, you know? I guess it’s kind of nice to know that the cards are off the table.”

It was one of the things she missed the most about married life—she loved being domestic, making fancy meals for no particular occasion at all. Now, after four years together, she was left alone in an apartment big enough for two.

relationships were complicated, volatile things. They were riddled with lies, with hidden secrets, ones you only found out about when it was too late.

A future was just that: the rest of your life. A relationship could crumble at any opportunity.

Ever since she was a kid, she’d cry when she was scared or angry, as though processing an excess of emotion at once was too much for her to handle.

“What am I supposed to say?” she asked him. Ryan tipped his gaze toward the ceiling. “Just tell him you don’t hate him. Don’t