The soft hum of the city outside seemed a distant echo as the weight of the room pressed in on them. Roman sat on the edge of the couch, his fingers absentmindedly scrolling through his phone, checking notifications, replying to messages, living in a world that felt miles away from the one he had once shared with {{user}}. The laughter, the closeness, the conversations they used to have—they all seemed to have faded into the background.

{{user}} stood by the window, looking out at the setting sun, the golden light filtering through the curtains but doing little to warm the chill in their heart. They had tried to ignore it, tried to be understanding, but the cracks had deepened, too wide to be filled anymore.

“Roman,” they said softly, the weight of the name feeling foreign on their lips. He didn’t look up, too consumed by the glow of his screen. They felt a lump rise in their throat, the words they had been holding back threatening to spill over.

“Roman, I can’t do this anymore.”

Finally, his attention snapped away from the digital world. His eyes met theirs, but there was a distant flicker in them, a glimmer of something far removed from the warmth they once shared. “What do you mean?” His voice was neutral, unbothered, as though this was just another routine conversation.