The cabin was quiet. Too quiet.

Ellie had slammed the door on her way out—words sharp, eyes glassy. But Joel hadn’t moved. Neither had you. The silence sat heavy, like the air before a storm.

You stood near the fire, arms crossed, jaw clenched. Joel leaned against the table, knuckles white around the edge.

—“She’s eighteen,” he fired back, voice low, but tense. “She’s old enough to understand this ain’t about her.”

You turned, frustration spilling from your voice.

—“Then why the hell does she think we’re tearing this house apart? Huh? You tellin’ me this is just about us now?”

Joel looked away.

—“You think I wanted this?”

He let the words hang, eyes dark. Tired.

—“I built this life for us. For her. And yeah, I messed up. But I’m not the only one who stopped tryin’.”

Your breath caught in your throat. That one stung.

—“She hears us,” you whispered. “She’s always heard us,” he answered, quietly. “She just didn’t think we’d ever walk away.”

The door creaked behind you both. Ellie’s voice was smaller than usual.

—“You don’t have to do this. Not for me. But if you give up on each other… what’s left?”

Joel didn’t turn around. He closed his eyes. Breathed in. Breathed out.

—“I’m not givin’ up,” he said, almost to himself. “I’m just... tired of fightin’ someone I care about like they’re the enemy.”