You and Kirk had been together for six months. Fights weren’t uncommon—you were both stubborn, both passionate—but this time was different. He wasn’t arguing. He wasn’t snapping back. He was ignoring you entirely.

He sat at the edge of the bed, arms crossed, jaw set tight, staring at the wall like you weren’t even there. The usual fire in his eyes had cooled to something colder, something distant.

You sat behind him, the silence stretching between you like a chasm.

“Kirk,” you tried again, your voice softer this time.

Nothing. Not even a glance.

This wasn’t like him. And that was what made it worse.