Chapter Twenty-Eight The Shape of Distance （Adrians POV ）
Chapter Twenty-Eight: The Shape of Distance
Adrian’s POV
At first, he thought it was nothing.
Just a phase.
People had those.
Quiet days. Tired weeks. Moments where they retreated into themselves and came back unchanged.
Camille used to do that sometimes.
But this wasn’t that.
---
She didn’t look at him the same way anymore.
Not in a dramatic, obvious sense.
It was subtler.
Worse.
Like her attention stopped landing where it used to.
Like something else had become more… real to her.
---
“Camille,” he called from the kitchen.
She paused in the hallway.
Turned.
“Yes?”
One word.
Neutral.
Polite.
Unfamiliar.
---
He watched her carefully.
She stood there like she was waiting for instructions, not conversation.
That wasn’t her.
Not really.
---
“You’ve been quiet,” he said, trying to keep his tone light.
She nodded slightly.
“I’ve been busy.”
---
Busy.
She hadn’t been working like this before.
Not like this.
Not withdrawn.
Not distant.
---
“With Mikhail?” he asked before he could stop himself.
The question came out sharper than intended.
---
Camille blinked.
Then her expression shifted—just slightly.
Not defensive.
Not guilty.
Just… still.
Like she was choosing how to answer something that didn’t deserve emotion.
---
“Yes,” she said simply.
A pause.
Then—
“It’s work.”
---
That should have been enough.
But it wasn’t.
Not anymore.
---
Because “work” didn’t explain the way she came home quieter.
It didn’t explain the way she no longer asked him about his day.
It didn’t explain the way she sat further away on the couch without realizing she was doing it.
---
He set his glass down a little too firmly.
“Does he keep you late every day?” he asked.
---
Camille finally looked at him properly.
Not surprised.
Not flustered.
Just calm.
---
“No,” she said.
Then, after a beat—
“I stay because I need to understand things.”
---
That sentence didn’t sit right.
He didn’t know why.
Or maybe he did.
He just didn’t want to name it yet.
---
“Understand what exactly?” Adrian pressed.
---
Camille exhaled softly.
Not annoyed.
Just… tired in a way he hadn’t seen before.
---
“Everything,” she said.
---
Silence followed.
Heavy, but controlled.
---
Adrian watched her carefully now.
Really watched her.
The way she leaned slightly toward the door, like she was already halfway out of the conversation.
The way she didn’t ask him anything back.
The way she didn’t fill silence anymore.
---
Something was wrong.
Not loud wrong.
Not obvious wrong.
The kind of wrong that grew slowly in places you didn’t think to check.
---
“You’re different,” he said quietly.
He didn’t mean to say it like an accusation.
But it came out like one anyway.
---
Camille tilted her head slightly.
“I’m the same,” she replied.
A pause.
Then softer—
“I just see things differently now.”
---
That line stayed in the air longer than it should have.
---
Adrian felt something tighten in his chest.
“Because of him?” he asked again, quieter this time.
---
Camille didn’t answer immediately.
Not because she didn’t know.
But because she didn’t seem interested in how he was asking.
---
“It’s not about him,” she said finally.
---
But she didn’t look away when she said it.
And that was what made it worse.
---
Because Adrian realized something then.
It wasn’t just that she was changing.
It was that she was no longer explaining herself to him.
---
And he didn’t know when that had started.
Or how long it had been going on before he noticed.
---
Camille adjusted her sleeve slightly.
A small, absent gesture.
Already leaving the space emotionally, even though she hadn’t moved.
---
“I’m going out,” she said gently.
Like she was informing him of weather.
Not asking permission.
---
“Where?” he asked.
---
She paused at the door.
Not turning fully back.
Just enough to respond.
---
“Work,” she said again.
Then added, softer—
“I’ll be late.”
---
And then she left.
---
Adrian stood still in the kitchen long after she was gone.
Listening to a house that suddenly felt too large for one conversation.
Too quiet for a relationship that used to speak without effort.
---
And for the first time,
he wondered something he didn’t want to ask too deeply.
---
When did Camille stop being his… and start becoming somewhere else?