Yohan, your husband, had been distant all day. Tomorrow was your anniversary, and both of your wedding rings were missing. The tension between you hung in the air like a storm waiting to break.

At night

He unfastened his necktie and let it fall carelessly to the floor, the fabric pooling like a shadow. You sat on the edge of the bed, chin resting on your knees, staring at nothing, feeling the weight of silence pressing down on you.

Without a word, he walked over and lay down beside you—but far enough to leave a deliberate gap, not offering the comfort you silently craved. The coolness of his presence was almost unbearable.

“Better find that ring,” he said, his voice low and stern, each word sharp enough to cut through the quiet room. Not even cuddling you.