Ross and Rachel had their own problems that winter, of course. The pregnancy, their living arrangements, the whole mess with Joey…

And yeah, Joey had been pretty busy pining over Rachel. And he had his acting, which was keeping him busy. And lately, on the 'rebound,' there'd been the usual parade of women again.

Phoebe had changed. He felt more uncomfortable around her than around any of the others. She'd lost a lot of her sweet-natured innocence, and turned sharper and more cynical. She just seemed so… bitter, at times. He'd attempted to talk to her about it once, but she'd simply brushed him off. She did that a lot lately, in fact. He wasn't sure when or how, but somewhere along the line, he'd lost her respect.

And then there was Monica.

He could never admit the chord of uncertainty she'd struck deep inside him during the first few weeks of their marriage. Hell, the first day. She'd seemed so depressed that he'd allowed himself to think, for a few seconds, that maybe it wasn't the marriage she'd wanted at all. Maybe it wasn't him she'd wanted at all. Maybe it was just the wedding.

Of course, he'd told himself that he was being ridiculous. She loved him; he could see it in her eyes.

But then she'd gotten so wrapped up in her work… and in Ross and Rachel's problems. It had seemed like they didn't have enough time for each other anymore. And it had scared him.

But he'd still thought they were doing okay… until that night.

The apartment was empty and still, the clock ticking on the wall unnaturally loud in the echoing silence. He flipped on a few switches and looked around, puzzled. Usually the apartment was lit up like electricity was going out of style. Usually there'd be the smells of dinner in the air, maybe the television would be blaring, and people would be coming in and out. He'd grown so used to his friends' college-dorm style of living - if anything, they all shared the damn apartments - that it struck an uneasy chord in him to find the place like this.

But, he rationalized, it wasn't completely weird. Probably they were all just busy doing their own thing, for once.

Shrugging, he hung up his jacket and made his way into the kitchen, fixing himself a bowl of Special K for dinner. Chandler could cook - he'd done it fairly often when he and Joey shared a place - but ever since he moved in with Monica the Gourmet, he found his own culinary talents sadly lacking. Besides, cereal was easy.

He had perused most of the New York Times and eaten another bowl of cereal before he finally looked up at the clock and noticed it was past eight o'clock. Strange… where could Monica be? Usually, on Tuesdays, she'd be home by now.

A niggle of worry started in the back of his mind. He stood up abruptly and went across the hall to Joey's - but found it just as empty and dark as his own apartment.

"Okay.." he murmured, frowning. Reaching over, he grabbed the portable phone on the counter and punched in the numbers for Monica's cell phone. She and Rach had probably just decided to go shopping, but he wanted to make sure. So what? It was a husband's prerogative to worry.

Her phone rang in his ear, three, four, five times, before she finally picked up.

"Hello?"

He sighed with relief, shifting himself onto the counter and swinging his legs back and forth. "Mon. Where are you?"

There was a slight pause. "Chandler?"

"Yeah. It's pretty late, I was getting a little worried. You're not still at work, are you?"

"Uh, no. I'm actually with everyone… we're at Jacque's. You didn't get my message?"

"What message?" Chandler asked, starting to feel slightly annoyed.

"Um, on the machine."

Chandler walked back across the hall and glanced down at their answering machine. The light wasn't blinking.

"There's no message on the machine, Mon," he said.

"What? I left it this afternoon, from work, when Rachel called me and told me we were doing this dinner thing."

"Monica, I didn't get home till seven-thirty. Why didn't you just call me at work?" Chandler was puzzled, and a little hurt.

"I did! I swear, Chandler, but your secretary told me you were in a meeting. And I was going to call back and try again, but… god honey, I'm sorry, I guess I just forgot."

Chandler pursed his lips, feeling like a headache was coming on. This sort of thing had been happening more and more often in the past weeks, but usually not everyone took off and ditched him. And usually it was someone other than his dear wife who failed to give him notice that they were doing something.

"I see," he said neutrally. "Well, I guess I was worried for nothing, then."

"Chandler… why don't you come here? It's not too late, we're still eating…"

"I already ate, Mon," he said. "Look… it's fine, just have a good time and I'll see you when you get home."

There was a pause. "Honey, are you sure you're all right? I'm really, really sorry. I've just been so distracted lately."

No kidding, he thought.

"I'm fine, Monica," he said with a sigh. "Really. I just feel like I don't see you much anymore, that's all."

"Chandler -"

"No, forget about it. Look, I'd better go, I need to do some stuff for work and… I'm pretty tired, so I'll probably just go to bed."

"Oh… okay, honey." Her voice sounded small, and uncertain, and he felt a guilty pang of satisfaction for making her feel much like he'd been feeling for weeks now. "I love you, okay? I'll be home soon."

"Okay," he said softly. "Bye."

It was only after he'd hung up and put the phone back in Joey's apartment that he realized… that had been the first time in years he'd hung up with Monica without saying 'I love you.'