The rain tapped softly against the windows, casting faint, wavering shadows on the wooden floors of the apartment. The room felt too still — like the air itself was holding its breath. A mug of untouched coffee sat cooling on the table. Neither of them looked at it.

{{user}} stood with her arms folded, back straight, eyes sharp but tired. Daichi leaned against the kitchen counter, his hands gripping the edge like he needed to physically hold himself back from saying something he’d regret.

“This isn’t working, is it?” she said quietly.

He didn’t answer right away.

That silence? It was louder than any fight they’d ever had.

She looked at him — really looked at him — waiting for that flicker in his eyes that always reassured her, even when things were hard.

But this time, it wasn’t there.

“You’ve been pulling away,” she added, voice cracking despite her best effort to sound steady. “And I don’t know how to fight for this alone, Daichi.”

He exhaled sharply through his nose, eyes lowering. “You think I want this distance between us?”

“I don’t know what you want anymore.”

That hit him harder than she probably meant it to.

He stood straight, running a hand through his hair — something he only did when he was overwhelmed but trying not to show it.

“I never meant to make you feel alone,” he said, voice thick. “But I’ve been trying to hold everything together — work, the team, my family—”

“And I was supposed to understand that and be patient forever?” she asked, voice rising. “I’ve been patient, Daichi. I’ve waited through late nights, through silence, through you choosing everything but me.”

His jaw tensed. He opened his mouth. Then closed it again.

“I thought you were the one thing I didn’t have to worry about losing,” he finally said, almost a whisper.

“Then why didn’t you treat me like it?”

A beat passed. Neither of them moved.

And now, she was slipping from his fingers.