matt hated the way his voice had risen, hated the tension that clung to the air when you stormed off upstairs.

now, all he could hear was the silence.

matt’s eyes fell to his hands. his wedding ring caught the light, the one thing that never left him no matter how hectic life got. slowly, he brought it to his lips, kissing the cool metal as his eyes fluttered closed. the action was instinctual—something he’d done countless times since the ring slid onto his finger.

it was grounding. it reminded him of you—your laugh, your patience, the way you’d dance around the kitchen with him. the weight of the ring felt heavier.

“i’m sorry,” he whispered into the quiet room, the words not just meant for the ring but for you, too.