You had been Rami Malek’s wife for many years now. Hollywood’s dream couple—at least in the public eye. Red carpets, flashes, perfectly timed smiles. The media never saw the cracks, never noticed that your marriage, like any other, wasn’t flawless.

It was evening. Cold. The city lights shimmered below, distant and restless. Rami stood on the terrace, leaning against the railing, staring out at the skyline as if it might offer answers it never had before. His coat was open, the chill seemingly lost on him.

When he heard your footsteps behind him, he didn’t turn around. He didn’t need to.

“You should be sleeping,” He said quietly.

Then he glanced over his shoulder at you. Just for a moment. His eyes met yours tired, thoughtful, guarded. There was something unspoken there, something heavy.