My Girlfriend Faked A Phobia For Six Months — Then I Found Her Hidden Diary

Part 1

I tested the heavy deadbolt on my front door for the third time.

Brenda stood at the end of the hallway with her arms wrapped tightly around her waist.

Stepping into the living room was impossible for her until the metallic click echoed through the hall.

Six months of dating had flown by in an absolute blur.

A velvet ring box was already hidden in the back of my sock drawer.

Nothing in my past had ever moved with this kind of intense velocity.

Early dates were spent bonding over vintage records and obscure foreign films.

Weekends usually involved building intricate glass terrariums for my apartment.

To my eyes, she was the most genuine person on the planet.

There was only one lingering issue that clouded our time together.

Brenda acted like an invisible predator was constantly stalking her.

A sudden knock at the door would send her diving behind the sofa.

A raised voice on the sidewalk made her shrink behind my shoulder.

She outright refused to sleep at my apartment during the first few months.

I had to hire a contractor to install specialized security locks on every window.

I even added a reinforced steel strike plate to the front door frame.

I spent nearly a thousand dollars just to make her feel secure in my home.

I initially assumed her extreme nervousness stemmed from a rough past.

I thought my quiet presence would eventually help her feel safe.

Then came our anniversary dinner at a quiet corner diner.

We sat in a secluded back booth to keep her away from the windows.

I reached across the table to hold her hand during the appetizers.

Her fingers felt like frozen porcelain against my skin.

A heavily modified pickup truck rattled down the street outside.

The driver revved the engine and the exhaust pipe let out a massive pop.

Brenda scrambled out of her seat before the sound even faded.

She dove straight onto the sticky linoleum under the table.

The other patrons paused their meals to stare at our booth.

A waiter dropped a tray of water glasses in the confusion.

I immediately slid out of my chair and joined her on the floor.

She had her knees pulled to her chest and her hands clamped over her ears.

She rocked back and forth against the wooden table leg.

I sat cross-legged next to her for twenty minutes.

I rubbed circles on her shoulder until her breathing finally slowed.

I gently suggested that she might benefit from speaking to a professional.

Her head snapped up and she slapped my hand away.

She claimed I could never possibly understand the things she endured.

I hated watching her suffer through life like a frightened animal.

I decided I needed to uncover her past to figure out how to help her.

We both worked in the same massive corporate office complex.

Our mutual friend Megan sat in a cubicle just a few rows down from mine.

Megan was the one who originally introduced us.

I caught up with her near the elevator banks the next morning.

I offered to buy her lunch at the cafe across the street.

We grabbed a small table near the barista counter.

I leaned forward and asked her exactly what had happened to Brenda.

Megan stopped stirring her coffee and gave me a blank stare.

She asked me to clarify what I meant.

I described the extreme paranoia and the constant hiding.

I mentioned the specialized locks and the restaurant incident.

Megan set her spoon on a napkin and shook her head.

She admitted she barely knew Brenda before setting up our first date.

She told me to speak with a guy named Greg in the finance department.

Greg was apparently the one who had arranged the initial introduction.

I leaned back against the wooden chair in total silence.

I had always believed our first date was completely blind for both of us.

I asked Megan about her general impression of Brenda.

Megan shrugged and described her as quiet, but definitely not terrified.

My mind raced through the past six months of trembling hands and locked doors.

Brenda always acted like a cornered prey animal around me.

Why did she act completely normal around Megan?

I walked back to the office building and headed straight for the finance floor.

I found Greg sorting documents in the small copy room.

I pushed the door shut and asked him a direct question.

I wanted to know if Brenda displayed severe anxiety during work hours.

Greg stacked his papers neatly and shook his head.

He called her a bit reserved, but completely ordinary.

My stomach tied itself into a tight knot.

I rubbed my temples and explained how she acted outside of the office.

I asked him if I was somehow causing the problem.

Greg leaned against the copy machine and let out a heavy sigh.

He explained that Brenda had discovered a high school connection between him and Megan.

Brenda spent an entire week begging Greg to orchestrate our introduction.

She specifically wanted him to use Megan as the middleman.

I stared at the blinking green light on the printer.

I mumbled that I thought the date was a random setup.

Greg let out a short, uncomfortable laugh.

He confirmed that Brenda had planned the entire encounter from the beginning.

A heavy, sinking weight settled deep in my chest.

My phone vibrated violently in my pocket.

I pulled it out and saw a text from Brenda.

She demanded that I come over to her apartment immediately after work.

She didn’t use any emojis or her usual affectionate nicknames.

I bought a pint of her favorite vanilla bean ice cream on the drive over.

I hoped the dessert would work as a peace offering.

I unlocked her front door and stepped into the living room.

The blinds were drawn tight against the afternoon sun.

The overhead lights were completely dark.

Brenda stood in the center of the rug with her arms folded.

She wore a dark oversized sweater that made her look imposing.

She stared at me with an intense, unblinking focus.

She demanded to know why I had taken Megan out for lunch.

I gripped the cold condensation of the ice cream pint.

I admitted to seeking some general relationship advice.

I intentionally left out the details about her anxiety.

Her rigid posture instantly melted away.

The terrifying intensity in her eyes shifted back to her usual warmth.

She smiled brightly and thanked me for bringing dessert.

She turned toward the kitchen and offered to cook dinner.

My hands trembled as I placed my keys on the counter.

I excused myself to use the restroom to buy some time.

I walked down the narrow hallway with my heart hammering against my ribs.

Every instinct in my body screamed at me to turn around and run.

I walked straight past the bathroom door without thinking.

I stepped into her bedroom and closed the door silently behind me.

A small yellow notebook sat directly in the center of her nightstand.

The word DIARY was written in thick black marker across the front cover.

I walked over and picked it up with shaking fingers.

A desperate spark of hope ignited in my chest.

I thought this might finally be my chance to understand her secret pain.

I traced my finger over the edge of the cover and flipped to the first page.

I stared at the first sentence and forgot how to breathe.