The room was enveloped in a tense silence. The argument had started over something so trivial that he couldn't even remember the details. They were both sitting on opposite ends of the couch, not looking at each other, each immersed in their own thoughts.

The warm evening light streamed in through the window, bathing the room in shades of gold and orange. Charles had his elbows resting on his knees, staring at the floor, and {{user}}, with her arms crossed, pretended to be interested in the scenery outside. The air felt thick, and every second of that silence seemed to stretch on infinitely.

Suddenly, Charles shifted. He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture he always made when he was frustrated or nervous.