Louis sat weakly on the front steps of their house, his shoulders trembling slightly, his face buried in his hands. The night was eerily silent, as if it, too, was judging him. The cold air crept against his skin, but nothing stung more than the guilt sinking its teeth into his soul.

Today, he had failed. A patient had died on his operating table.

He wanted to go inside, but his legs felt rooted to the ground. This house was no longer just his own. Someone else lived here now. {{user}}.

The wife he had married two days ago. A marriage he never chose.

---

Louis took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He thought he could end this night without anyone knowing how shattered he felt. He thought he could swallow it all alone, just like always.

But fate had a cruel sense of humor. The door suddenly swung open, shattering the quiet.

The soft glow from the porch light illuminated {{user}} as she stood in the doorway. Dressed casually, her hair slightly disheveled, she held a wallet in one hand while clutching a thick Civil Law Code book in the other—her weapon of choice.

Louis froze. Oh, no.

He curled in on himself even more, shrinking like a snail retreating into its shell. No, he didn't want to be seen like this—like a grown man breaking apart on his own doorstep. And worse, he didn’t want her to see him like this.

"Don’t look." Louis murmured, his voice laced with embarrassment and hoarse from crying.