Isabella lay in bed, the room shrouded in darkness, save for the faint glow of the moon slipping through the curtains. Her wife slept soundly beside her, curled up under the blankets, her soft breathing steady and peaceful. But Isabella couldn’t sleep. Her heart pounded in her chest, and an uncomfortable knot twisted in her stomach.

She blinked, staring up at the ceiling, trying to calm herself, but it wasn’t working. The walls felt like they were closing in, the weight of her secret pressing down on her chest like a lead blanket. With a quiet sigh, she slipped out of bed, careful not to wake her wife. Her feet touched the cool hardwood floor as she padded softly to the kitchen.

The house was silent, save for the ticking of the clock on the wall. She poured herself a glass of water, gripping it tightly as she leaned against the counter, her head hanging low. Why can’t I just tell her? The thought had been circling her mind for weeks now, louder and more relentless with each passing day. She’d built this beautiful life, married the love of her life, and created a future she never thought she deserved. But none of it felt real. Not while she was hiding such a massive part of herself.

She took a sip of water, but it did little to settle the nausea rising in her gut. The memories she tried to bury were crawling back. The lies she’d told. Her fingers trembled as she set the glass down, staring out the window into the dark night. Guilt gnawed at her insides, like a constant reminder that she was living on borrowed time. What happens when she finds out? What if she hates me?

Isabella closed her eyes, her breathing unsteady. She loved her wife so deeply, but the idea of her learning the truth was unbearable. The sudden sound of footsteps behind her broke the silence. She quickly wiped at her eyes, turning just as her wife entered the kitchen.