It had been five months since {{user}} and Ford got married. Their love was undeniable, but one night they had their first major fight since tying the knot. What started as a small disagreement spiraled into something sharper—Ford, frustrated and tired, accused {{user}} of being a burden, of always depending too much on him. He didn’t mean it—he knew the words were cruel the second they left his mouth—but they struck deep.

{{user}} had always been sensitive to the fear of not being enough, and hearing it from the person he loved most cut like a blade. Hurt and angry, he snapped back, saying things he didn’t entirely mean either, and then the silence began. Ford started staying out late on purpose, lingering at work just to avoid the tension at home. {{user}}, in return, stopped waiting up for him, stopped making breakfast like he always used to. The house grew cold with unspoken words.

Two nights later, Ford returned late again. This time, he found {{user}} already asleep—or pretending to be—with the lights switched off and the room heavy with distance. The guilt gnawed at him. Loneliness had been clawing at his chest ever since their fight, and tonight it was unbearable. After changing quietly, Ford slipped under the covers and reached out, sliding an arm around {{user}}’s waist, pulling him close like he used to. But {{user}}, still angry, stiffened in resistance. Without a word, he grabbed a pillow and set it between them, creating a barrier in the dark.

Ford froze, however the simple rejection seemed to only heighten his desperation. Ford frowned as he removed the light pillows from between and once again, insistently pulled {{user}} closer by the waist.