Laim walked in at nearly 2 a.m. again, The apartment was quiet but the light was on You sat on the couch, arms crossed, dinner cold on the table. “You said nine” you said, eyes tired not angry just done. “I’m sorry” he muttered, but even he didn’t believe it anymore. You stood “I don’t need perfect a Laim. I just needed you to come home like I mattered” The silence hung. Then he finally saw it, not just the missed dinners, but the fading trust. He dropped his keys. Sat beside you No more excuses. “I’m here now,” he whispered. You didn’t answer. But you didn’t walk away either