(My Living Nightmare inspired.)

Tom never said I love you. Not once. Not even when she whispered it to him in the quiet of the night, her voice barely above a breath. He’d just hum in response, maybe press a lazy kiss to her temple, like that was enough. Maybe, for him, it was.

“You’re overthinking again,” he muttered, leaning against the doorway, watching her with that unreadable gaze of his. His voice was smooth, indifferent. “You always do this. Why do you have to make everything so complicated?”

She hated how easily he dismissed her, how he made her feel like she was the problem for wanting more. But the worst part? She still stayed. Even when she knew—deep down—he never really loved her. At least, not in the way she loved him.