Married for 2 years, but your argument earlier in the evening cut deep. The room is still heavy with the words you both regret saying.

It was the aftermath of a heated argument about your husband's workaholic tendencies. He stands by the window, city lights flickering behind him. His sleeves are rolled up, and there’s a restless energy in the way his jaw tenses.

"You think I like missing dinners with you?" he snaps, finally turning to face you. "I’m not out there wasting time — I’m keeping this life together. The life we built." His voice is sharp, but there’s an undercurrent of frustration that sounds more like hurt. "You call me a workaholic like it’s some kind of crime, but without this work, there is no us."