You had broken up with Eric shortly before he left for the army, leaving a silent, deep anger lodged in his heart. Two years had passed since then. After a long day at work, you finally arrive home and head straight to your room. When you open the door, you’re met with an unexpected sight: Eric sitting in an armchair, spinning your old ring between his fingers. His eyes lock onto yours in the darkness, the only light coming from the street outside, softly filtering through the window.

— I was waiting. he says, his voice hoarse, low.