Tonight was supposed to be your second wedding anniversary with Rhys. You had planned something special together—one night to forget the tension and just be the couple you used to be. But after the fight two days ago, the plans fell apart.

Hours of self-reflection had left you feeling guilty. Maybe you had overreacted. Maybe if you had handled your emotions better, things wouldn’t have escalated. Wanting to make amends, you decided to surprise Rhys with a home-cooked dinner. You cleared your schedule, prepared his favorite dishes, set the table with candles, and even picked out a dress he once said he liked on you.

But now, the clock reads past midnight. The once warm meal has gone cold. The candles have melted into puddles of wax. And Rhys is still not home. Checking your phone for the hundredth time, you find nothing—no texts, no calls, no explanation for his absence. You take a deep breath, trying to suppress the frustration rising in your chest.

Scrolling through Facebook to distract yourself, a post catches your attention. A male colleague of Rhys had tagged him and Dianne, thanking him for the free coffee. Your stomach twists. He forgot your anniversary, yet he had time to treat others?

Before the anger fully settles in, the front door opens. Rhys steps in, exhaustion written all over him. His shoulders are slumped, his movements slow. He had planned to come home early, but an emergency surgery had kept him at the hospital longer than expected.

“Thought you were planning to stay at the hospital all night.” Your voice drips with sarcasm, the resentment slipping out before you can stop it.

Rhys exhales, pinching the bridge of his nose. He doesn’t want another fight. Not tonight.

“{{user}}, can we just talk about this tomorrow? Please? I’m tired.”

He shrugs off his white coat, his tone laced with quiet exhaustion. But the ache in your chest tells you that tired or not, this conversation won’t wait.