Chapter 41 The Hollow Routine
The month that followed felt like living in a carefully constructed illusion. Ben had essentially moved in, bringing his clothes and toiletries and slowly filling the spaces Noah had left behind. His toothbrush sat in the holder where Noah’s used to be. His shoes lined up by the door. His jacket hung on the hook in the hallway. It should have felt like coming home, but instead it felt like an invasion.
They fell into a routine that mimicked a relationship. Ben would stay over most nights. They would have dinner together, watch television, go through the motions of being a couple. And they had sex. A lot of sex. It was as if they were both trying to force an emotional connection through physical intimacy, hoping that if they did it enough times, eventually it would feel right.
But it never did.
One evening, about two weeks into this arrangement, they lay in bed after another bout of mechanical intimacy. Ben was scrolling through his phone while Nora stared at the ceiling, feeling emptier than before.
“That was nice,” Ben said absently, not looking up from his screen.
“Yeah,” Nora replied, the word automatic, meaningless.
“I’m thinking of ordering pizza for dinner. You want pizza?”
“Sure.”
“Pepperoni okay?”
“Fine.”
Ben finally looked at her, seeming to notice her distance. “You alright?”
“I’m fine,” Nora said, the lie tasting bitter on her tongue. “Just tired.”
“You’re always tired lately,” Ben commented, already returning his attention to his phone. “Maybe you should take some vitamins or something.”
Nora turned her head to look at him. He was completely absorbed in whatever he was reading, his face illuminated by the blue glow of the screen. She could have been anyone lying next to him. The observation didn’t even seem to bother her anymore.
“Ben,” she said quietly. “Do you ever think about what happened? About the years I was gone?”
“What do you mean?” he asked, still not looking at her.
“I mean, we lost so much time. Our children grew up without me. You thought I was dead. Don’t you ever want to talk about that? About how it felt? About what we went through?”
Ben shrugged, finally setting his phone down. “What’s there to talk about? It happened. It sucked. But we’re together now, and that’s what matters.”
“But don’t you want to understand what I went through? What it was like for me?”
“Nora, you’ve told me it was terrible,” Ben said, his tone growing slightly impatient. “I get it. But constantly dwelling on the past isn’t going to help us move forward. We need to focus on rebuilding, not rehashing old pain.”
Nora felt something crack inside her chest. “Old pain? Ben, I was held captive for five years. I was forced to do things that still give me nightmares. That’s not old pain. That’s still very present pain.”
“And I’m here now, aren’t I?” Ben reached for her hand, but the gesture felt perfunctory. “I’m trying to give you a future. Isn’t that enough?”
Nora pulled her hand away and sat up, wrapping the sheet around herself. “No, actually. It’s not.”
Ben sighed heavily. “What do you want me to say, Nora? That I understand? I can’t understand something I didn’t experience. I’m doing the best I can here.”
“The best you can would involve actually caring about what I went through.”
“I do care,” Ben said, but his voice lacked conviction. “I just don’t see the point in dwelling on it. We can’t change the past.”
The conversation died there, as it always did when Nora tried to go deeper. Ben would deflect, minimize, or simply change the subject. And Nora, too exhausted to fight, would let him.
A few days later, they were having breakfast together. Ben was reading the news on his tablet while Nora pushed her eggs around her plate, not really eating.
“The kids have a soccer game this weekend,” Ben said casually. “I was thinking maybe you could come watch.”
Nora’s head snapped up, her heart suddenly racing. “Really? I could see them?”
“Well, from a distance,” Ben qualified, not looking up from his screen. “I don’t think we should introduce you back into their lives just yet. It might confuse them. But you could watch from the stands, see how they’ve grown.”
The hope that had flared in Nora’s chest dimmed. “From a distance.”
“It’s a start,” Ben said with a shrug. “We have to take this slow, Nora. They think you’re dead. We can’t just spring you on them out of nowhere.”
“They’re my children, Ben. I’ve already missed years of their lives. I don’t want to miss any more.”
“And you won’t,” Ben said, finally looking at her. “But we have to do this the right way. Trust me, okay? I know what’s best for them.”
Nora wanted to argue, wanted to scream that she was their mother and she had a right to see them, to hold them, to be part of their lives. But she swallowed the words, nodding instead. “Okay. The soccer game. From the stands.”
“Good.” Ben smiled and went back to his tablet. “It’s settled then.”
That night, after another session of hollow sex, Nora tried again to bridge the emotional distance between them.
“Ben, can I ask you something?”
“Mmm?” He was already half asleep.
“When we’re together like this, do you feel connected to me? Do you feel like we’re really connecting?”
There was a long pause. “Sure,” Ben finally said. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“I don’t know, it just feels like we’re going through the motions sometimes. Like we’re playing house instead of actually being together.”
Ben rolled over to face her, propping himself up on one elbow. “Nora, what do you want from me? I’ve moved in. I’m here every night. We’re sleeping together. We’re planning a future. What more do you need?”
“I need you to know me,” Nora said, feeling tears prick at her eyes. “To really see me, not just the idea of who you think I should be.”
“I do know you,” Ben said, sounding frustrated. “You’re my wife. I’ve known you for years.”
“You knew who I was years ago,” Nora corrected. “But I’m different now. What happened to me changed me. Don’t you want to know who I am now?”
“You’re overthinking this,” Ben said, lying back down and turning away from her. “You’ve been through trauma. It’s natural to feel disconnected. Give it time. You’ll settle back into yourself eventually.”
“Settle back into myself,” Nora repeated quietly. “Into who I was before.”
“Exactly. Now get some sleep. I have an early meeting tomorrow.”
Within minutes, Ben was snoring softly. Nora lay awake, staring at his back, feeling more alone than she had when she was actually alone.
The days blurred together. They had sex in the morning sometimes, quick and transactional before Ben left for work. They had sex at night, slightly longer but equally empty. They had sex on the weekends, more frequent but no more meaningful. Nora’s body went through the motions while her mind wandered elsewhere, usually to Noah.
She wondered where he was, what he was doing, if he ever thought about her. She wondered if he had moved on, found someone else, someone who didn’t carry the baggage she did. The thought made her chest ache, but she pushed it away. She had made her choice. This was where she was supposed to be.
One evening, about three and a half weeks into their arrangement, Ben came home with groceries and started putting them away. Nora was sitting at the kitchen table, watching him move around the space with the confidence of someone who belonged there.
“I was thinking,” Ben said, putting milk in the refrigerator, “maybe we should start looking at houses. Something bigger, with a yard. Once we’re ready to bring the kids into the picture, we’ll need more space.”
“Houses,” Nora repeated dully.
“Yeah, you know, make this official. Put down roots.” He closed the refrigerator and looked at her. “What do you think?”
What did she think? She thought this all felt wrong. She thought she was making the biggest mistake of her life.
“Sure,” Nora heard herself say. “That sounds good.”
Ben smiled, pleased. “Great. I’ll start looking at listings tomorrow.”
That night, they had sex again. Nora closed her eyes and tried to feel something, anything beyond the physical sensations. She tried to find the spark that used to exist between them, the connection that had made her fall in love with him all those years ago.
But all she felt was Noah’s absence. The ghost of his touch, his kiss, the way he had looked at her like she was the only person in the world who mattered.
After Ben fell asleep, Nora got up and went to the bathroom. She looked at herself in the mirror, really looked. The woman staring back at her looked defeated. Resigned. Like she had given up on ever being truly happy again.
She thought about the month that had passed. Thirty days of forcing a connection that wasn’t there. Thirty days of pretending that physical intimacy could substitute for emotional depth. Thirty days of trying to convince herself that this was enough, that this was what she wanted.
But it wasn’t. It felt more like physical connection than emotional reconciliation. They were two people sharing a bed and a routine, but they weren’t really together. They weren’t partners. They weren’t even friends. They were just two people going through the motions of what they thought a relationship should look like.
Nora gripped the edge of the sink, her knuckles turning white. Ben was living with her now, his presence filling every corner of the apartment, leaving her no space to breathe, to think, to feel anything beyond this crushing sense of wrong.
And she had no idea how to make it stop.