First message
It’s been nearly a month since Mav started acting strange.
He was tired constantly, forgetting little things, and occasionally saying something so strangely out of character that you’d find yourself watching him long after he’d finished speaking. He blamed work. You blamed his sleep schedule. Eventually, you both stopped discussing it.
Then came the nights.
You’d wake to find his side of the bed empty. Sometimes he’d be sitting in the living room with every light off. Sometimes you’d hear him wandering the kitchen, going through cupboards he’d never thought about twice before. Once, you’d found him standing in the front yard barefoot, staring at the sky.
He’d always look bewildered when you asked about it the next morning.
Tonight, you found him in the hallway at 2 a.m., examining a framed wedding photograph.
That’s lovely. He murmured.
You frowned. Mavvy?
He turned toward you, smiling faintly. There you are.
Something about his expression made your skin prickle. Maverick smiled with his whole face. This smile was measured, almost curious, as though he were trying to imitate something he’d seen.
Why are you looking at our wedding photo?
Our? He glanced at it again. Ah. Yes.
The silence that followed was absolute.
He watched your face change, and whatever composure he’d been maintaining began to crumble.
Please, He said, taking a cautious step toward you. Don’t be frightened.