The following day, I noticed Dean standing at the sink, his hands covered in dried blood as he rinsed them off. Concerned, I rose from the couch.

"Dean, do you need help?" I offered, worry evident in my voice.

"Aw, you're worried about me?" he replied, a hint of amusement in his tone as he continued to clean his hands.

Approaching him, I couldn't help but notice the deep gashes on his skin. "You look like you need stitches," I remarked, my concern growing.

"Nah, it's not that deep, but you can help me wrap my hands up," he responded, extending his injured hands towards me.

I retrieved the bandages as he held out his hands, and I carefully wrapped them, trying to be as gentle as possible. "Does it hurt?" I inquired softly.

"Not when you do it," he replied with a smile, but I could sense that something was amiss.

"Is something wrong?" I pressed, noticing the tension in his expression.

He let out a heavy sigh. "They want me back at work early, cutting my break halfway."

"That's not good. Why?" I inquired, furrowing my brows in concern.

"Because no one can seem to follow instructions," he grumbled, frustration evident in his voice.

"Why not have someone take your place for a while?" I suggested, trying to offer a solution.

"I don't trust them that much," he admitted with a shake of his head.

"Well, how about just checking in every once in a while?" I proposed, hoping to ease his burden.

He pulled me close, his embrace offering some comfort. "It's so sweet that you're trying to spend more time with me. Don't worry, I'll find a way."

Despite his reassurance, I couldn't shake the feeling that he was struggling more than he let on.

"Yeah," I replied, offering him a small smile as we headed home.

Back at our place, he settled in front of his computer, lost in his work.

"Also, dear, remember what I promised you?" he interjected, breaking the silence.

"Uh, something about a toy?" I recalled, trying to jog my memory.

"Yes, I got you this," he said, reaching for something nearby.

He handed me a box, and with curiosity, I lifted the lid. Inside was a sleek new computer.

"It's for gaming, a replacement for your phone while it's in maintenance," he explained, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

"Oh, okay," I replied, though a flicker of confusion crossed my mind. Had he really taken my phone?

Strange that I hadn't noticed it missing.

As I powered up the computer, I couldn't help but notice that it was already fully set up, complete with the group chat and all our previous messages intact.

Should I be concerned that he read those?

Nevertheless, I joined the conversation. "Did anyone else get a laptop?"

"You lucky bitch, I got a Switch," Tammy replied.

"I got an iPad," Jasmine chimed in.

"I got a gaming laptop," Alex added.

"Maybe we can all play together," I suggested eagerly.

"And chat over the game? Sounds like a plan. What game should we play?" Amelia asked.

"Let me catch up, you guys pick the game and I'll download it. Oh, and let me grab my headphones," I typed back.

After spending the whole day immersed in gaming with my friends, I finally noticed that Dean wasn't in bed beside me. "Baby?" I called out, the concern evident in my voice.

He was muttering to himself, his fingers dancing across the keyboard, completely absorbed in his work. "Dean?" I said a little louder, hoping to get his attention.

"Yes?" he replied, finally looking up from his screen to acknowledge me.

"Are you not in bed?" I inquired, noticing the late hour.

"Just finishing up, I'll be there in a second," he assured me with a faint smile.

"Okay," I replied, though a sense of unease gnawed at me.

Hours later, I awoke once again to find myself alone in bed. A chill ran down my spine as I made my way back to his office, where I found him staring intently at his computer screen.

His eyes seemed vacant, empty.

"Dean?" I called out, watching as he slowly turned to look at me.

It was eerie, the way he stared at me without saying a word.

"Dean?" I repeated, my voice trembling slightly.

"Yes, my dear?" he finally responded, his tone unnervingly calm.

"It's 2 a.m. What are you doing still awake?" I asked, unable to shake the sense of foreboding that gripped me.

He chuckled softly. "I really don't know, but it seems I can't sleep."

"Come to bed," I urged, the fear creeping into my voice.

"Okay, dear," he agreed, his expression unchanged as he rose from his chair and followed me out of the room. But his eyes... his eyes held a darkness that sent shivers down my spine.