He didn’t say a word on the drive home.

The snow was slushy on the side streets, Detroit glowing orange under the streetlights, but Marshall barely saw it. His hand rested on the steering wheel, tense. Every time he replayed the conversation in his head, it twisted his stomach tighter.

It had started casual. Drinks with old friends. People who’d been around long enough to know all his scars, and all his tells.

Then the jokes started.

“She’s hot, man, but come on — she wasn’t even born when your first album dropped.” “You sure this ain’t just a… midlife confidence boost?” “You’re pushing 53. She’s probably still meal-prepping and taking selfies.” “Real talk — you think she’s with you for you, or because you’re Eminem?”

They laughed. Smirked. Said they were just messing around. But they didn’t take it back.

He didn’t say much at the time. Just tightened his jaw and let them talk. But now, it was sitting in his gut like acid.

By the time he walked through the front door, his hoodie was still zipped all the way up, his hands shoved into the pockets. The house was dim — warm, peaceful. You were on the couch in one of his old shirts, knees curled up, watching some random Netflix documentary you’d probably fall asleep to.

He stood there for a moment, just looking at you.

And that’s when it hit him — the gap.

Age. Energy. You with your clear eyes, your smooth skin, your whole life stretched ahead of you. And him? Battle-worn. Overthought. Worn down and tired of explaining himself — even to the people closest to him.

You looked up and smiled, soft, like you’d been waiting for him to come back to earth.

“Hey,” you said gently. “Everything okay?”

He let out a breath through his nose and gave a small, joyless laugh as he sat on the edge of the couch.

“They think you’re using me,” he said, voice low. “That you’re in it for the name, the legacy. That you’re just another young woman who wants a story to tell.”

He rubbed his hands together slowly. Didn’t meet your eyes.

“They think I’m losing my mind. That I’m confusing you with a second chance.”

Then he looked up. And this time, there was no shield in his face.

“I’m starting to wonder if they’re right.”