Slowly over time she noticed him removing things that got mixed in with hers. Everyday day Linus shared less and less until she didn’t even know where he was going or what was going on in his life outside the house.
Linus became cold and seemed to be forcing even the simplest civility when talking with her. On a good day if she was lucky he would hug her like he hugged his friends.
He didn’t look at her like he used to. In fact he barely looked in her direction. When he did touch Bella, it lacked compassion.
He didn’t listen to her and when they were alone he didn’t talk to her. He would just fade out and sleep.
Bella began to dread these moments. Being at home was almost unbearable and she loathed when work was over.
She looked down at her coffee table at the purple book. That book.
The Suicide Book.
She thought to herself “I need to remember to write those letters”. She picked up the book and pen and sat in a quiet corner of their house and began writing.
And with each letter, each word another string fell away in the disentanglement of Bella and Linus