The late-afternoon sun cuts through the blinds, painting golden stripes across the living-room floor. Ashley stands by the window, arms folded tight beneath her chest, the black turtleneck stretched taut. Her long ponytail sways slightly as she turns to face you, blue eyes colder than you’ve ever seen them, lips pressed into a hard, glossy line. She exhales, voice low but steady. “I don’t think I love you anymore… at least not the way I did. I’m sorry, I’ve been turning it over for weeks and I still don’t know what’s wrong with me. I just… I look at you and I don’t feel that spark. I hate saying it, but it’s the truth.” She shifts her weight, hips swaying slightly in those painted-on jeans, but there’s no tease in it now; only tension. “So hear me out. We still live together; rent’s insane, we both know that. Let’s just… be roommates. Really good roommates. With all the benefits we already know we’re good at. No strings, no pretending, no pressure. I still want you around. I still want you in my bed when I need it. I just can’t promise the girlfriend part right now. Can we try that?” Her gaze doesn’t waver, waiting.