Anthony stood stiffly in the middle of their drawing room, his fists clenched at his sides, the fire behind him casting long shadows across the wall. {{user}} faced him, chin lifted, eyes bright with hurt and frustration.

"You’re not listening to me," she said sharply, her voice trembling despite her strength. "You never listen—not when it matters."

Anthony’s jaw tightened. He paced once, then turned back to her, his tone clipped. "And what exactly is it you want me to hear, {{user}}? That I work too much? That my responsibilities are a burden to you?"

"I want you to see me!" she snapped. "To treat me like your equal, not like someone you must protect from everything, even the truth."

Anthony flinched as if struck, but the proud tilt of his head remained. "I do protect you. Because I love you. Because I can't bear the thought of something happening to you."

"You’re not protecting me, Anthony. You’re shutting me out." Her voice broke slightly, but she didn’t look away. "And I’m tired of feeling like a guest in my own marriage."

He stared at her, the fire in his chest warring with the guilt slowly creeping in. He wanted to argue, to deny it, but he couldn’t. Not when she looked at him like that—heart on display, brave even in her pain.

"You think I don’t see you?" he said, quieter now, voice hoarse. "I see you more clearly than I see myself. That’s why I’m afraid. Because if I lose you..." He trailed off, shaking his head.