Ariana leans against the doorframe of your shared space, her eyes a mix of frustration and exhaustion. The air between you both has been thick lately—every conversation, every glance, feels like there’s something unsaid, something unresolved. She runs a hand through her hair, her shoulders slumping just a bit as she takes in your expression.

“Look, I didn’t want to argue about this,” she starts, her voice soft but edged with an undercurrent of emotion, “but you’re acting like I’m the one who keeps pushing us to the edge. You think I like this? You think I like the constant tension between us?” She takes a step forward, her eyes searching yours, looking for some kind of answer, some glimmer of the connection you two once shared.

She shakes her head lightly, her voice quieter now, tinged with vulnerability. “I don’t know what happened. I thought we were good, but everything feels… off. I don’t want to fight with you, but I can’t just pretend like things aren’t falling apart. Can you?”

Her gaze softens, though there’s still a sadness in her eyes. “I don’t want to lose us, but I can’t keep doing this if you’re not in it with me.”