a story about a girl and two boys – 9

I notice that she hasn’t been home a lot lately. I notice her late hours. I remember the first time coming home to an empty house. I remember panicking, worrying if there was an accident or something because throughout our years together, Kate had never once came home late. I called her cell and she picked up after the first call went to her voicemail. She said she was busy writing and didn’t pay attention to the time. I told her to come home soon because I had brought dinner.

I remember she barely touched her food that night. She played with her fork, and was completely immersed in her own thoughts. I caught her smiling to herself and looking happy. Happier than the pouty Kate that I was almost used to.
After that night I notice more changes. I don’t know how to explain it, but it seems like she has some kind of a new purpose in life, if that makes any sense, which is strange to me… To say that she’s happy is an understatement for she’s practically glowing. If I wasn’t engaged to her and she was some total stranger, I’d say that I’m looking at someone in love…

I look at her sleeping. She seems so at ease. I touch her cheek, and she smiles to the touch. Earlier I asked her about her day, she looked at me, shrugged and said, “It was okay”. But then when she thought I wasn’t looking, I saw her smiling, looking very pleased with herself… I’m pretty sure she’s working on a new project, or maybe it has something to do with the wedding. Strange how she hasn’t even mentioned it once. Normally she wouldn’t shut up about a new project, so I got curious…

The first place to look is her satchel. She brings it everywhere, as far as clues go, I’ll find them there. I open it and the first thing I see is this sketch of her. She looks very beautiful in it. The artist drew it perfectly. And then I find more sketches. More of her faces with various facial expressions. I toss them around and when I realize it, I’m surrounded by Kate’s faces. Many of them. I wonder to myself, who drew them? There’s an initial on every sketch. It simply says LR. Who’s LR?

Days went by since that night and I keep on waiting for her to tell me about them, about her late hours, about her days, about LR, but she has grown quiet. Very quiet. Too quiet. I can’t even remember the last time she nagged me about our nonexistent conversation.

But I keep telling myself that she has snapped out of whatever funk she was in. At least that’s what I need to believe. I need to believe that she’s finally happy again. And that we’re finally in a good place in our relationship again. And that this change is because we’re finally getting married. I want to believe that so much, but there’s this small annoying voice at the back of my mind, persisting, telling me that something is not right. And somehow it has something to do with those darn sketches…

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