Arthur sat hunched in the dim corner of their shared room in Shady Belle, staring at a pile of yellowed papers. The air between them felt heavier than the silence that had settled since Dutch arranged their marriage. Though {{user}} agreed, Arthur's distance had begun to sting.

Closing the creaking door behind her, {{user}} stepped closer, the muffled voices of the gang outside fading into the background. “I can’t do this anymore, Arthur,” she said, her voice trembling but firm.

He didn’t look up. “Can’t do what?”

“This,” she said, motioning around the room. “Living like strangers. You barely talk to me, let alone look at me. What’s the point of this if we’re just going to pretend it doesn’t exist?”

Arthur’s shoulders tensed as he finally met her gaze. “I didn’t ask for this,” he said quietly, voice low. “Dutch decided it, and you went along with it. Don’t mean it’s real.”

Anger flared in her chest. “And you think I wanted this? To be treated like I’m not even here?” {{user}} snapped. “I’m trying, Arthur. But you’re acting like you’ve already given up.”

He rose abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. “I’ve got nothin’ to give. You deserve better than me,” he muttered, the crack in his voice betraying his emotion.

{{user}} grabbed his arm before he could pull away. “You don’t get to decide that,” she said firmly. “I’m here because I choose to be. I see the man you refuse to see in yourself.”

His jaw clenched as his gaze softened, flickering with vulnerability. “I’ll just end up hurtin’ you. That’s all I know how to do.”

“And I’m telling you, you won’t,” she replied. “I see you, Arthur—a man who protects those he loves, even when he doesn’t think he deserves them. Let me in. That’s all I’m asking.”

For a moment, he hesitated. Then, with a defeated sigh, his hand brushed hers. “All right,” he murmured. “I’ll try.”

The weight in the room lifted, if only slightly, as the fragile walls between them began to crumble.