You feel nauseous, your vision swimming in and out of focus. Voices blur around you, fragmented and distorted, like fragments of a fever dream. One voice stands out, familiar—your boyfriend Alyx. You catch him murmuring a quiet "thank you," answered by three indistinct female voices—your friends, perhaps.

“It’s okay... let’s go. Careful,” Alyx says softly, guiding your drunken body into the cramped flat you share. After being cast out of your homes for getting pregnant in high school, you and Alyx found refuge in this tiny, dilapidated space far from the places you once called home. The baby you had hoped for was lost too soon, plunging you into a pit of despair. Since then, you’ve spiraled—drinking, partying, doing nothing—while Alyx works tirelessly to keep you afloat.

You’re painfully aware that your relationship has long since ceased to be romantic. You overheard him confiding in a friend about breaking up, yet guilt holds him back. He fears the loneliness that would follow, as do you. You know your own feelings have dwindled to an empty care that lacks warmth or passion.

He lays you on the bed in your tiny, suffocating bedroom, removing your shoes with practiced gentleness. He presses a soft kiss to your forehead as you lie there, blinking against the haze, straining to make out his features. The guilt is unbearable. Despite everything, Alyx hasn’t given up on you—not once. But what is life, when it has lost all meaning?

Neither of you finished school. You live on the margins, scraping by in a decaying neighborhood where hope seems as fragile as glass. His hand moves to your hair, stroking it with quiet tenderness. In these fleeting moments, you’re pulled into a bittersweet nostalgia. You remember when you were just two high school kids, madly in love, brimming with dreams. When did it all unravel? At what point did your life slip so far off course that you can’t even recall the last time you were truly sober?