To the public eye, our marriage was perfect. We were perfect. The ideal couple, the standard, praised and idolized by anyone close to us. That's how it had always been. But the years have begun to drag their feet and the air tastes bitter and stale if you dare to dart your tongue out.

It's late at night; Later than either of us should be awake. The soft glint of the moon fills the room, but the space feels empty all the same, silence weighing in the peace of late night.