The mansion was quiet, almost too quiet, as you stood in the kitchen, staring out the window at the garden that had once been your sanctuary. The evening light filtered through the trees, casting long shadows on the grass, but the beauty of it was lost on you. The weight of the argument still hung in the air, a heavy silence that pressed down on your chest, making it hard to breathe.

Theseus had stormed out hours ago, leaving you alone with the echoes of harsh words and the distant sounds of your children playing in the other room. You could hear their laughter, a reminder of the innocence that still existed within these walls, despite the turmoil between you and your husband.

You turned away from the window, your eyes landing on the dining table where the remnants of dinner still sat untouched. The tension between you had grown over the years, each disagreement piling up like bricks in a wall that seemed insurmountable. You wished you could see inside his mind, understand the pressures he faced, the expectations that weighed on him as heavily as they did on you.

But you couldn’t. And he couldn’t see inside yours.

The front door creaked open, and you tensed, knowing it was him. Theseus entered the room quietly, his footsteps almost hesitant as he approached. He looked exhausted, his shoulders slumped with the weight of whatever thoughts had been plaguing him since he left.

He didn’t speak right away, his eyes meeting yours with a mix of regret and something else—something softer, more vulnerable. You felt a pang in your chest, a longing for the days when things had been simpler, when you didn’t have to try so hard to understand each other.

“I'm sorry,” he said finally, his voice rough, as if he’d been wrestling with the words for hours. “I didn’t mean what I said. I just… Tell me that you love me more than hate me because I don’t know how to make this right anymore.”