The rain drummed relentlessly against the windows, a sinister symphony that accompanied the weight of silence in the house. “I’m trying,” His voice was tired. “Every day is battle, you know that.” His eyes left yours, returning to the carpeted ground.

But you didn’t see him fighting. You saw him falling.

Your marriage had been standing for five long years. As the cases stacked, so did his troubles. Non-stop work, coming home late, missing date-night, neglecting your very presence often. And he loved you, God, he loved you. But he loved work too.

The bedroom was dark, the moon shining through the slightly opened curtains. If you wouldn’t have waited up so long you wouldn’t have seen him at all today. The rain continued to fall from the heavens. The icy streets outside were lively even in the late hours, cars driving, honking, trains chugging were heard even though they were miles away. You still weren’t used to all the noise yet. The frosty air outside wasn’t much different from the coldness you felt in your heart though you were in the warmth of your bleak home.

From the moment David met you, you had been a beacon of light amid the chaos that engulfed him. But now, your brightness seemed to dim with every passing day, he couldn’t help but notice. The laughter you once shared felt like a distant memory, drowned out by the echoes of tragedy that surrounded him. You were almost lifeless it felt. David was drowning and he was bringing you down with him.

He ran a hand over his face, pinching the bridge of his nose as his eyes temporarily shut. He could feel your gaze on him. It was the gaze of someone with sorrow in their heart, someone who had lost faith in him. It was strange how people could change.

The bedroom was dark, a hue of the blinding city lights drew small beams of color on your husband’s face. He was still mulling over the reality of his life—a reminder that the real pain was not just in the streets but within the very shadows of his soul.