A quick walk through the downstairs revels there’s nothing else out of place.
Your partner’s jacket is still on the hook by the door, but their shoes are not by the back or front door. Your shoes are by the front door, putting them on you head outside.
The night is dark, no moon in sight and only the occasional star peeking through the obscuring clouds. Porch lights seem to have long since turned off, and the lone streetlamp is dim and flickering.
Down the road you can see the lake peeking through the trees, and that might be a light showing a little ways down the shore.
After walking around the house you pull closed the back door and notice your partner’s shoes—laces tied together and stretched at just above ankle height across the door.
Across the backyard you see that the movement from earlier was at the entrance to the trail that leads to the lake; there is still no further signs of movement.
Follow the forest trail—surely the movement was your partner… right?
Walk down the road toward the lake, maybe they’re at the light you thought you saw.