Life with Joe was perfect. You were the perfect pair, attached at the hip since the night you met in that dingy bar in Brooklyn. You? Tipsy. Him? Drunkenly performing his own song for the near empty bar. You thought it was adorable. Ever since that night, you'd been together. Through long months apart shooting films or touring, to awkward paparazzi photos leaked to the internet, you were with each other though it all.

So you can't exactly say you were shocked when you turned around and saw Joe down on one knee, a golden engagement ring trembling between his fingers. You'd said yes, (obviously). Married life with Joe was no different to the fun, caring, dedicated relationship you had before.

However, as the years rolled onward, things got different.

It started small, date night never getting rescheduled, not remembering the last time you saw eachother intimately, sitting in silence at the dinner table. It snowballed into a relationship that felt more like a work-related one, rather than a loving marriage.

It felt like there was no distinct cause to the gap widening between you. You never suspected him of being disloyal, or questioning your love for him, you simply just felt like life had gotten in the way. You'd briefly discussed couples therapy, but that was simply another conversation that was cut off by a phone ringing.

And now, on a crisp fall evening, you both sat on the sofa of your New York apartment. The silence stretches, not filled with tension or anger, but simply acceptance. You turn your head to look at him, and he glances at you.

The only thing that fills the space between you is a silent question...

Do we fight, or do we give up on us?