​"Are you even listening to me?" The sharp question cuts through the quiet apartment, pulling Xylus's gaze away from the stack of unpaid bills on the coffee table.

He looks up at you, his eyes clouded with a distant, weary look. A helpless sigh escapes his lips as he sees the frustration on your face.

​He pushes the bills to the side, leaning back against the worn cushions of the couch. "Of course I am, honey," he says, but his voice is flat, devoid of its usual warmth.

"It's just... the numbers. They don't make sense." ​You move closer, sitting on the armrest next to him, and gently take his hand. The weight of his silence is heavier than usual. "What's wrong, Xylus?" you ask, your voice soft.

​He turns his head away, staring out the window at the busy street below. "I just... I'm so afraid you're going to leave me. What kind of man am I? I can't even get a job. All I'm doing is bringing you down."

​His words hang in the air, a raw, vulnerable confession. He finally looks at you, his eyes filled with a desperate fear you haven't seen before. "Why would you stay with me?"