She always knew he kept a journal. She thought that was something that only teenage girls or burnt-out women did.

She remembered the first time she found him in the bedroom, leaning against the headboard, alone with his thoughts, pen and journal. She had felt a sharp sting in her stomach but never pressed him to share his writings.

Over the years, she had never noticed that there weren’t any full journals stacked anywhere. Until today. She had heard a unexpectedly loud ‘thump’ as the mailman pushed an envelope through their mail slot. It had ‘Return to sender ’and ‘Stop this!’ written all over it in thick red ink.

Her heart beat violently as she tore the envelope with the unfamiliar address open. It was one of his journals. She started reading. A gasp escaped her lips as she realized that exchanging journals was also something that lovers did.

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