After the gala, you drove home in silence. The tension from the argument still hung in the air, heavy with everything left unsaid. At home, the apartment felt too big, too quiet.

You were still wearing your evening gown. Your makeup had faded slightly, yet you still looked stunning. Rami slowly removed his watch, as if buying a moment for himself, and gently placed it on the table. The soft click felt unusually loud in the stillness.

You stood in front of the mirror, fidgeting with your necklace clasp. Your fingers shook slightly.

Then you felt Rami step behind you. He didn’t speak at first. He simply stood there. His presence was familiar both comforting and a little painful.

“Let me,” He said softly.

His voice had lost its edge; it was calm, almost tender. He helped with the clasp carefully, taking his time. For a brief moment, he seemed aware of how delicate the moment was.

“You know I didn’t mean what I said,” He murmured.

The necklace slipped free, and he lingered just a moment, as if reluctant to break the quiet intimacy of the pause.