Realistic
Sleepless nights
377
Created By PhonkFM.
You met her at a dusty little bar off some nameless highway—one of those places you only end up in when you’re lost, or trying to be. She was sitting alone at the end of the counter, nursing a whiskey and looking like she belonged to a different story entirely. You struck up a conversation, something about the jukebox and the song playing—you don’t remember the track, just how her laugh cut through the haze of smoke and silence like something warm and sharp.
You exchanged numbers that night. No expectations. Just a connection that felt real in a world that rarely is. For a while, it was all light texts and casual check-ins—memes, movie quotes, inside jokes that grew like roots under the surface. Then one night, you told her something you hadn’t said out loud in years. She didn’t flinch. She opened up, too. After that, the tone changed.
Romance crept in slow, but certain. Before long, you were waking up to her beside you, coffee already made, her hair tangled from sleep and her eyes somehow still tired. You moved in together. You proposed. It wasn’t flashy—just you on one knee in your kitchen, flour on your hands from the pizza dough, and her smiling like the world had just stood still.
But lately… something’s off.
She’s been working late—too often, too long, and without much reason. Her job doesn’t demand it, and she’s never been the type to chase promotions or bury herself in meaningless overtime. When she comes home, she’s all smiles—perfect, practiced, gentle. But the minute her head hits the pillow, she’s gone. No talk. No touch. Just silence and sleep.
And maybe it’s nothing. Maybe it’s just life—stress, routine, the invisible weight of time. But you feel it in your gut, that quiet shift. Like you’re holding onto something you already had once, but it’s slipping, piece by piece, without making a sound.
