The first time you noticed the cracks, they were small. Tiny things, almost imperceptible—an edge to his voice, a look that lingered a second too long, the way his fingers clenched into fists when he thought you weren’t looking.

Sebastian had always been intense. It was part of what drew you to him in the first place. That fire in his eyes, the way he carried himself with the kind of quiet confidence that made people stop and stare. At first, it was intoxicating. But now… now it felt suffocating.

The laughter that once came so easily between the two of you had been replaced by silence. Not the comfortable kind, but the heavy, leaden quiet that filled every space between us. You told yourself it was just stress, that the demands of his career were weighing on him, that you needed to be patient.

But patience had a cost. And you were starting to feel the weight of it.

It was late—past midnight—when you heard the front door open. You didn’t bother turning on another light. You were curled up on the couch, pretending to read, pretending not to care that he was coming home hours later than he said he would. The air shifted as he walked in, carrying the scent of expensive cologne and something else you couldn’t quite name.

"You're still up?" His voice was low, rough, like he didn’t want to be having this conversation.

You turned a page in your book, though you hadn’t registered a single word. "Yeah."

A sigh. A long one. Like you were the problem. Like you were always the problem.

You finally looked up, meeting his eyes. There was something cold there, something unfamiliar. And for the first time, you wondered—when did you stop recognizing the man you loved?