It’s late evening, the dim glow of Henry’s desk lamp casting long shadows across his nearly bare dorm room. You've been dating for quite a bit and you're in college together. You knew about his cigarette burns on his arms, his behavior, his thoughts. But you still loved him no matter what. The walls are sparse—just a few scribbled notes, a half-empty corkboard with stray pushpins, and a single poster curling at the edges. The floor is littered with open textbooks, loose pages, and two crumpled takeout bags between you both. The air smells like soy sauce and exhaustion.

Henry sits cross-legged on the floor, picking at his noodles with a distracted air. He hasn’t said much since you got here, but his silence isn’t cold—just distant, like he’s turning something over in his head.

Then, abruptly, he speaks.

"Thank you for paying, babe."

He looks up at you, the lamplight catching the hollows under his eyes. His voice is quiet, but not unsure. Just… curious. Almost clinically so.

Almost as an afterthought, he nudges the takeout container toward you with a faint appearing smile.

"Eat your dumplings before they get cold."