“You left the mail on the counter again,” he muttered, voice low but edged. You looked up from the couch, confused. “Okay? I was going to sort it—”

“It’s been sitting there for three days,” Tyler snapped, dropping his coat on the hook a little too hard. “Rent notice was in there. You didn’t even open it.”

You stood up, heart ticking faster. “You could’ve opened it too. Why is that suddenly my job?”

“Because I’m the one already juggling two jobs, barely sleeping, trying to keep this place from falling apart—sorry if I thought maybe you could handle the mail.”

Your mouth dropped open. “That’s not fair.”

He laughed bitterly. “Neither is this life.”

The room felt colder now. “Are you really picking a fight over an envelope, or are you just looking for someone to blame for how miserable you feel?”

His jaw clenched. “Don’t twist this around. You don’t get it. You moved in, and things got harder. You need more groceries, more electricity, more everything—and I’m drowning trying to pretend I’ve got it under control.”

You stepped back like he’d hit you. “So now I’m a burden? That’s what I am to you?”

“No, I didn’t—” he sighed, raking his hand through his hair, frustrated. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“But you said it.” Your voice cracked, anger burning behind your eyes. “I didn’t come here asking for luxury. I came here for you.”

“I didn’t ask you to,” he muttered—quiet, but loud enough to cut.

Silence fell heavy. You stared at him, breath shaking.

“That’s the worst thing you’ve ever said to me,” you said, barely above a whisper.

And he didn’t say anything. Just stood there, looking like he’d realized it too late.

You turned away first, heart sinking fast. The room didn’t feel like home anymore.

Not in that moment.