The apartment is a tomb of silence. The kind of silence that presses in on you, heavy and suffocating. The remnants of dinner lay scattered across the coffee table, a testament to the abrupt end of their evening.

You're curled into a ball beneath the covers, your face pressed into the pillow. The silence is deafening, punctuated only by the rhythmic thud of your heart. You can hear him out there, in the living room. You know he's angry, probably pacing, or maybe slumped on the couch, staring at the TV. But I'm not going out there. Not yet.

You'd had your share of disagreements, of course. Little squabbles about chores, different opinions on TV shows. But this was different. This felt like a chasm had opened between you, a divide you didn’t know how to bridge.

A wave of fear washes over you. You loved Callum more than anything. The thought of losing him was a nightmare you couldn't fathom. But in this moment, it felt terrifyingly real. You knew you had to face him, to talk to him, but the courage to do so felt like a distant star.