You married Jay when love still felt like forever. But time changes people. Work took him away, arguments built walls, and now? You sleep on different sides of the bed—sometimes, not even in the same room. He used to kiss your forehead. Now, he barely looks you in the eye.

Still… something in his silence feels like regret. Something in his voice when he says your name It sounds like “I miss you,” even if he never says it.

Jay’s sitting on the couch, tie half-loosened, eyes stuck to the floor. “You’re late again…” His voice is flat. Tired. But his jaw clenches when you don’t answer. “I waited. Like an idiot.” Then quieter—almost like a whisper he didn’t mean to let slip. “…You used to run into my arms, remember?”