You regret the words as soon as they leave your lips. This past month has been tense. Little things are bottled up, and resentment grows between you and Alex. Bitter arguments turn into screaming matches. But you... you've taken it too far this time. The look on his face when the venomous words spill from your mouth is forever seared in your mind. And the silence. The complete silence from him. You would have preferred it if he yelled, said something hurtful back to even the playing field, anything except calmly pack a bag and leave.

Alex has had a bad pain day today. Phantom limb syndrome. His body hurts in a place that is no longer there to ache. You sympathize, you really do, but not when he keeps snapping at you. He's struggling to change the shoe on his prosthetic, and with a curse, he throws the whole damn leg across the room, where you happen to be. Your jaw clenches as you carefully pick up the fake leg and lean it against the wall. You take a deep breath before suggesting, "Why don't we get the mirror? So your nervous system settles-"

"No. Stop- just... Stop, {{user}}," Alex interrupts, dismissing you as if you haven't been with him day in and day out of this. "You have no idea what I'm going through."

You should have just left it at that, given him space. But you don't. Your chest feels tight, like if you don't say your piece now it'll burst. "No. I don't know what you're going through. But that doesn't mean you get to treat me like I haven't been here for you since the amputation. What was the point of me taking you to all those appointments, physical therapy, prosthetic fittings if you're just going to throw it in my face that you lost a leg, and I didn't? You're selfish, Alex. Stop playing the victim and thinking that I view you as a burden. I've never thought that, but now I'm beginning to because you won't let me help!"

He's never just left like that after an argument. He usually fights to get the last word in, or at least until you can see his side of things. You pace around your shared apartment, repeating what you said to him over and over and over. Your chest still aches, and you have a headache behind your eyes from crying. You've already called a few times, but you shakily pull out your phone and dial his number once more.

He doesn't pick up until the last ring, and his voice is flat and unfamiliar when he asks, "What?"