He stands by the window every night,
watching the city like he’s waiting for something.
Until I saw the glass.
There’s a woman in the reflection.
She’s not in the room.
She’s looking straight at me.
The Reflection
He came back three nights ago. He stands by the window every night, watching the city like he's waiting for something.
I thought he was just adjusting. Until I saw the glass.
There's a woman in the reflection. She's not in the room. She's looking straight at me.
Slow breathing. Eyes closed.
He doesn’t move.
I can feel it — the weight of his stare.
Minutes pass. Maybe hours.
When I finally open my eyes —
he’s still there.
Exactly the same.
The Stare
I pretend to sleep. Slow breathing. Eyes closed.
He doesn't move. I can feel the weight of his stare. Minutes pass. Maybe hours.
When I finally open my eyes — he's still there. Exactly the same.
Soft. Almost careful.
When I looked up,
he was standing in the doorway.
Not saying anything.
Just… watching.
The light behind him made his face impossible to see.
But I knew one thing —
he had been there for a while.
The Doorway
I heard something in the hallway. Soft. Almost careful.
When I looked up, he was standing in the doorway. Not saying anything. Just watching.
The light behind him made his face impossible to see. But I knew one thing — he had been there for a while.
I don’t know when it started.
Maybe it was the way he stopped blinking.
Or how he listens,
but never reacts.
I tried to ignore it.
But tonight—
I felt it before I saw it.
He’s not pretending anymore.
What's Wrong?
Something is wrong. I don’t know when it started. Maybe it was the way he stopped blinking. Or how he listens, but never reacts.
I tried to ignore it.
But tonight— I felt it before I saw it. He’s not pretending anymore.
And something felt… delayed.
I smiled.
My reflection didn’t.
Just for a second.
But it was enough.
Because behind me—
in the mirror—
someone moved.
The Mirror Delay
I looked at myself in the mirror. And something felt… delayed.
I smiled. My reflection didn’t. Just for a second.
But it was enough. Because behind me— in the mirror— someone moved.
Same position. Same angle.
The TV flickers,
but I don’t think he’s watching it.
I tried talking to him.
He nodded. Smiled. Perfect.
Too perfect.
But he never once looked away from the screen.
Even when it was turned off.
Perfect Husband
He sits there every evening. Same position. Same angle.
The TV flickers, but I don’t think he’s watching it.
I tried talking to him. He nodded. Smiled. Perfect.
I don’t remember it being this long.
There’s something at the end.
Standing still.
I can’t see its face.
But I know—
if I keep looking,
it will start walking.
The Hallway
The hallway looks longer at night. I don’t remember it being this long.
There’s something at the end. Standing still. I can’t see its face.
But I know— if I keep looking, it will start walking.
The rain felt real.
Cold. Heavy.
Unlike everything inside.
The city lights blur,
like they’re far away from me.
For a moment,
I thought I was alone.
Then I noticed—
the glass door behind me…
someone is standing there.
The Balcony
I stepped outside to breathe. The rain felt real — cold, heavy.
Unlike everything inside. The city lights blur, like they’re far away from me.
Then I noticed— the glass door behind me… someone is standing there.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Like he was learning how it feels.
I watched from behind.
He pressed harder.
Then stopped.
And whispered—
“Still not right.”
The Glass
His hand touched the glass. Slowly. Carefully.
Like he was learning how it feels. I watched from behind.
He pressed harder. Then stopped. And whispered— “Still not right.”
Close enough to touch.
But something is missing.
He answers when I speak.
He remembers everything I like.
He does everything right.
And that’s the problem.
Because love—
was never this perfect.
Not Perfect
We sit together every night. Close enough to touch. But something is missing.
He answers when I speak. He remembers everything I like. He does everything right.
And that’s the problem. Because love was never this perfect.