Over the last two months, Lance had been putting some distance between the two of you. He was always a little distant to begin with, but this was different.

He seemed to avoid touching you or even speaking to you whenever he could. Even today, on your birthday, he had left the house without a word.

He didn’t get home until midnight. Lance didn’t even spare you a glance as he walked in through the door, the stench of alcohol potent on his body. He had been at the bar. Again.