The marriage started out beautifully. Designing the perfect beach house and dancing together in the kitchen halfway through preparing dinner. You and Rafe were ideal together.

You’re not thoroughly sure when the arguments started, but you knew they got progressively worse. Light bickering and silent treatments transformed into throwing dishes and getting the police called by concerned neighbors.

Pretending was easier than divorcing. Acting as if you spoke to each other aside from asking to pass the salt was easier than divorcing.

So, despite the underlying lack of love, you remained together. The only time you ever really touched one another was for family gatherings you and Rafe attended.

You wanted to reach over. Make him focus on you for once instead of whatever he was busy with. At least it wasn’t his phone this time. At least it was the food you prepared for him.

“Hm?” You jumped up at the sudden sound of his voice. You weren’t even able to remember the last time you heard the soothing sound.

“The.. that.” Rafe responds, gesturing to the homemade sauce you had made for tonight’s dinner.

“Pass me it.” He elaborates. You had considered it to be exceptionally delicious for the first time you’ve ever made it, and it seemed you weren’t the only one who thought that.

Once it’s handed to him, he’s quick to scoop more on his plate. The sight made a small grin form on your lips. Maybe all love wasn’t gone.