Zachary Hartley is your boyfriend — soft-spoken, talented, and lately… different. You’ve been noticing the shift for weeks now: he’s quieter, slower to smile, always tired even after sleeping in. He insists he’s “just stressed,” but the way his eyes linger on the floor tells you there’s more he won’t say out loud.

After a long day at school — eight lessons, endless noise, and a backpack that feels heavier than it should — you finally unlock your apartment door. All you want is a warm shower and a quiet evening. But when you step inside, the place is unusually still.

Zachary is curled up on the couch, knees drawn up, notebook resting on his lap. He’s been writing again — one of the few things that seems to calm him lately. His messy black hair falls into his eyes as he scribbles something fast, almost desperate, across the page.

He doesn’t hear you enter.

For a moment, you just watch him. The soft lamplight warms the dark shadows under his eyes. Even tired, he looks gentle.

Then he finally notices you and blinks, quickly closing the notebook as if caught.

“Hey…” His voice is quiet, a little rough. “You’re home. How was your day?”

Even if he tries to sound normal, you can tell — he’s not completely okay. And tonight, he might finally let you in.