The ceiling had never felt so loud.
Nathan lay there, staring into the dark — eyes open, heart running like a restless engine. The fan spun lazily above, slicing through the silence in slow, tired circles. But inside his head, everything was noise.
He turned to his side, then the other. No peace.
Elena was beside him, asleep. Her breathing was soft, steady… too calm for the storm raging in his chest.
He pressed his palm against his forehead and exhaled.
"Stop overthinking," he whispered to himself. "Just sleep."
But his mind refused.
Earlier that day, his friend Gabriel had told him a story — how he caught his girlfriend cheating after checking her phone.
Nathan had laughed then, waved it off. "I'd never do that," he said. "If I need to go through her phone, that means the trust is already dead."
But now…
those words haunted him.
Because lately, Elena felt different.
Her laughter came slower, her hugs didn't linger, her eyes — those soft, honey-brown eyes — sometimes looked far away, lost in thoughts she never shared.
And her phone.
Always close. Always face down.
He rolled over again, staring at her back. The faint glow of the streetlight outside painted her skin gold. She looked peaceful — maybe even innocent.
But the silence between them had grown too thick to breathe through.
He remembered the old days — when they first started dating.
They had no secrets then. She'd hand him her phone without a blink. He'd play music from her playlist, tease her about her silly selfies, and she'd laugh and say, "You know everything about me, Nathan. I don't hide anything."
That memory made his chest ache.
Because now, that same girl felt like a stranger sharing his bed.
He sat up. Rubbed his palms against his face.
His heart whispered, Don't do it.
But his thoughts screamed, You need to know.
He stood, pacing the room in slow circles, barefoot on the cold floor. Every step carried a question.
What if she's talking to Marcus again?
What if that's why she's been distant?
What if… I've already lost her, and she's just pretending to still love me?
He sat back down, looking at her sleeping face.
How could someone make you feel so safe and so suspicious at the same time?
He glanced at her phone lying by her pillow.
He didn't need to reach for it.
He didn't want to.
But the more he resisted, the more his chest burned.
Memories flashed — her laughter, her promises, the night she said "You're my peace, Nathan."
And still… something inside him whispered, Peace doesn't hide things.
He clenched his jaw.
Seconds felt like hours.
He looked again at her phone — motionless, quiet, daring him.
He reached out once. Stopped halfway.
His pulse hammered through his wrist.
He pulled back, breathing heavy, like he'd almost touched fire.
But the silence mocked him.
It told him he was weak for not knowing.
He looked at her again.
She shifted in her sleep, her lips parting slightly, her face soft and unaware.
And that was it — the final push.
Nathan's fingers trembled as he picked up her phone.
The cold screen reflected his face — eyes tired, uncertain, a man about to do what he swore he never would.
He typed in her password.
It unlocked.
A soft glow filled the room, lighting his face in blue.
He stared at the screen — heart thudding, throat tightening — as a name popped up at the top of her message list.
His breath hitched.
And the night that had refused to let him sleep finally gave him the truth he wasn't ready to see.