The Pill's Side Effect

I first noticed something strange after I started taking the meds. The doctor had warned me they might take a little while to kick in, so I didn’t think much of it at first. But there was this weird pattern. Emily always seemed to leave right around the time I took the pill.

It would start off normal. We’d be sitting together, talking about her day, plans for the weekend, and the weather. Then, just as I reached for the meds, she’d shift in her seat, glance at the clock. Subtle, almost unnoticeable. She’d smile, brush her hair back, and say, "I just remembered, I need to finish that thing for work." Or, "Oh, I forgot, I promised to call my mom. I’ll be right back."

She never came right back.

There was always a reason. An errand. A phone call. She was tired. And it always seemed to happen as I was about to take the pill. At first, I didn’t think much of it. We’re both busy people, right? But after a while, I couldn’t shake the feeling something wasn’t right.

One night, we were watching TV—something we both enjoyed—and I reached for the bottle. As soon as I did, she gave me that apologetic smile. "I’m so sorry, honey, but I just remembered I need to send an email for work." She was on her feet before I could even say anything, disappearing into the other room.

I sat there, pill bottle in hand, staring at the empty spot she left behind. I took the pill, waited for her to come back, but she never did. When I went to check, the house was quiet. The hallway lights were off, and it felt like she’d just... stepped out for a while.

I tried telling myself maybe the meds were messing with my sense of time. The doctor did mention side effects. Maybe I was just losing track of when she left and returned. Or maybe I was getting too lost in my own thoughts.

But it kept happening.

Every time I took the pill, she found some excuse. And then, later, she’d act like nothing had happened. "You were working late last night," I said once, trying to keep it casual. "I barely saw you."

She looked at me, confused. "What do you mean? I was here all night. You were just tired." Her voice was so steady, so sure, I believed her. I mean, why wouldn’t I? She’s my wife. She wouldn’t lie to me. Right?

It had to be the pills. They were messing with my perception, making me lose track of time. Maybe they were dulling my senses, making me miss her comings and goings. That had to be it.

One night, we were having dinner, and everything felt perfect. Emily’s laughter filled the room, her voice warm and soothing. She was telling me about her day, her eyes bright and alive. The stress of the day melted away, replaced by the comfort of her presence. I wish this moment would last forever.

I waited until the meal was almost over before I reached for the bottle. As soon as she saw me pick it up, her expression shifted. "Oh no, I forgot I left the laundry in the dryer. I’ll be right back."

I hesitated, the pill halfway to my mouth. "Can’t it wait?"

She gave me that same reassuring smile. "I won’t be long. You know how it is."

And just like that, she was gone.

The house felt strangely empty after she left, even though I knew she was just down the hall. I took the pill anyway, waiting for her to return. I keep telling myself it’s the meds. Maybe they’re making me feel distant, like I’m losing time, missing pieces of our conversations. Or maybe it’s me, too wrapped up in my head to notice her slipping away. I don’t know.

But I can’t help but wonder if she’s avoiding me. Maybe she hates it when I take the meds? Could it be the smell? The pills have that bitter, metallic scent when I pop the bottle open. She’s always been sensitive to smells, hasn’t she? Or maybe it’s something else, something I’m not seeing. I’ve even thought about stopping them—just for a little while—to see if she’ll stay, if things might go back to how they were before. What’s the harm in trying?

Maybe I’m just overthinking it. Maybe it’s all in my head, like she says.