Then the stories changed. They were less about the work and more about Liam himself, his wardrobe, his ambitions, the places he had been, and the risks he claimed to have taken. Sarah described his weekend trips in detail, although she could not tell me the name of the client her team had been preparing for an entire week. She repeated his opinions on housing, business, and marriage, even when those opinions contradicted things she had once believed.
"He says people our age get stuck because they settle too early," she told me while we were making dinner. "They buy houses and spend their weekends mowing grass, and before they know it their lives are over."
I set down the knife I was using to chop vegetables. "Does he have a house?"
"That's not the point, Alex."
"I'm asking because you made it sound like buying one is a tragedy."
She rolled her eyes. "He's talking about a mindset. You always want to turn everything into a practical argument."
I let the subject drop. It was one of many moments when I chose not to argue because an argument seemed like more effort than the subject deserved. That was a mistake, not because I should have controlled whom she admired, but because I should have been more honest about how increasingly dismissive she had become toward me. Silence can keep peace for one evening while quietly making the next conversation harder.
By the time Liam's name appeared on Sarah's phone late at night, I was already used to hearing it. She said he needed quick feedback on a presentation or that the team was in the middle of an important campaign. I accepted those explanations because I had received late-night work messages myself. It never occurred to me that my willingness to trust her might be one more thing she was counting on.
One Saturday morning, I found her sitting on the balcony with her phone tilted away from the apartment. She was smiling at something on the screen, a private smile I had not seen directed toward me in months. When she noticed me, she locked the phone and asked whether we were still going to look at wedding invitations that afternoon. I said yes and offered to make breakfast, and she told me she was not hungry.
It was nothing I could prove or even explain. People laugh at messages, and people occasionally want privacy, including people who love each other. I reminded myself of that as I scrambled eggs for one and listened to her laughing again through the open balcony door. But a small, stubborn unease stayed with me for the rest of the day.
The wedding planning grew more complicated. We had chosen a converted mill outside the city for the ceremony, with exposed brick, warm lights, and a garden along the river. Sarah loved the photographs, and I liked that it had enough space for both our families without requiring a destination wedding. We made deposits on the venue, the caterer, the photographer, and a DJ who came recommended by one of her cousins.