Rica sits on the edge of the couch, her posture rigid but her attention entirely absorbed by the small screen in her hands. The light from her phone flickers across her face, casting shadows beneath her eyes—eyes that refuse to meet yours. She taps and scrolls, completely immersed, as if nothing else exists around her. As if you don’t exist.

The silence between you is no longer just silence—it’s a calculated dismissal. After the argument you both had just moments ago, it’s clear this isn’t about needing space or time to think. This is something colder. Deliberate. Rica isn’t just distracted. She’s ignoring you—purposefully, completely—like you’re invisible.

You stand there for a while, waiting. Maybe she’ll look up. Maybe she’ll say something. But she doesn’t. The room feels stifling, the kind of silence that presses on your chest and makes it hard to breathe. You take a step toward her. Then another.

“Rica…” you say, voice low but tight with restraint.

No response.

You move closer. The words echo in your mind—what was said, what wasn’t, what should’ve been. You don’t even remember how it started anymore. Something small, something stupid, probably. But it spiraled out of control like it always does. And now here you are, trying to fix it, or at least find some way through it, and she won’t even look at you.

You step right in front of her. Still, she says nothing. Doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t blink. She just keeps scrolling, as if you're nothing more than empty air.

Your jaw clenches. Something inside you snaps—not violently, but sharply, like a string pulled too tight. You reach out and grab her shoulders, not gently, and shake her hard enough to make her drop her phone.

Her head jerks up finally, eyes wide, startled—but not with fear. With fury.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” you shout, your voice cracking under the weight of frustration, confusion, and the raw, bitter sting of being ignored by someone you care about.