tremors of my divorce. I bought a white noise machine, a galaxy projector that splashed spinning stars across her ceiling, and organic lavender spray for her pillows. I thought love, patience, and routine would fix it.
Instead, the strangeness migrated from Emma’s mind into the very fabric of our marriage.
A few months ago, right as the summer heat began to bake the city, Evan’s sleeping habits underwent a jarring transformation. For the first three years of our relationship, we had clung to each other in the dark, sleeping tangled together like vines. But then, almost overnight, Evan began pulling away.
It started with midnight restlessness. Around midnight—always between 11:45 PM and 12:15 AM—Evan would groan softly, rub his lower back, and slide out from under the heavy down duvet.
