The night was supposed to be simple. Dinner at Althea's apartment, a quiet night in, just the two of them. But the silence that hung heavy between them said otherwise.
The plates on the table were barely touched. The candles she lit had burned down halfway, flickering weakly as if they, too, were tired of trying.
Althea sat at the edge of her chair, her fork turning over and over in her hand. She watched Ethan across the table—the man she loved, the man she swore she couldn't live without—and yet tonight, he felt so far away.
His jaw was tight, his eyes avoiding hers, his food untouched. He had come late, hours after he promised, and when he walked in, she could already sense the distance radiating from him.
She hated this version of Ethan—the cold, unreachable one. It wasn't always like this. There were days when he held her like she was the only thing keeping him breathing. Nights when his whispers against her skin made her believe forever existed. But lately, forever felt like it was slipping through her fingers.
Finally, she couldn't take the silence anymore.
"Ethan," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Talk to me. Please."
His shoulders stiffened. He didn't look at her. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. "There's nothing to talk about, Thea."
Her chest squeezed painfully. Thea. He used to say it with warmth, with love. Tonight it sounded tired, like her name was just another burden on his lips.
"There's everything to talk about," she said quickly, desperation leaking into her tone. "You've been so distant. You barely call, you barely show up, and when you do… it's like this." She gestured to the untouched dinner, her own tears threatening to fall. "Like you don't even want to be here."
Ethan finally looked at her, and the frustration in his eyes cut her deeper than any words.
"Maybe I don't."
The room spun. Althea's fork slipped from her fingers, clattering against the plate. "What… what do you mean?"
He sighed, standing up and pacing, his hands on his hips. "I mean this, Althea. Us. It's not working anymore."
Her throat tightened. She stood, too, moving around the table toward him. "Don't say that. Please don't say that." She reached for his arm, but he pulled away, and the rejection stung like fire.
"I'm serious," Ethan said harshly, his voice rising. "We fight all the time. We don't understand each other anymore. You want too much from me, and I… I can't give it."
Her vision blurred as the tears broke free. "I don't want too much! I just want you. I want the man who used to hold me, who made me feel like I mattered." Her voice cracked, her words tumbling out between sobs. "I can't just let this go, Ethan. I love you too much."
Something flickered in his eyes—pain, longing, maybe even love—but it was gone in an instant, hidden under a mask of frustration.
"Love isn't enough," he snapped.
Her breath caught. She had heard those words before, from other people, but never from him. Never from the man who promised her that their love could survive anything.
"Yes, it is," she whispered brokenly, her fingers curling into fists at her sides. "Love is supposed to be enough."
Ethan shook his head, his voice colder this time. "Not when it's killing us both."
The words were knives. She felt them slice through her chest, leaving her bleeding in silence.
Her knees buckled, and she sank back into her chair, covering her face with trembling hands. "Please don't do this," she begged, her voice muffled by her sobs. "Don't walk away. I can fix this. We can fix this.
He watched her for a moment, his chest rising and falling hard as if he were at war with himself. Then he exhaled sharply, as if making a decision that had been weighing on him for months.
"I can't, Althea," he said, finality in his tone. "We're done."
She froze, the words sinking in like poison. Slowly, she lowered her hands, her tear-streaked face lifting to look at him. Her lips trembled, her heart pounding so loud it drowned out everything else.
"Ethan… don't."
But he had already grabbed his keys from the counter. Already turned his back to her. Already walking toward the door.
And when the door slammed shut, the silence after the slam of the door was deafening.
Althea sat frozen in the chair, her body trembling, her tears soaking the sleeves of her blouse. The words replayed over and over in her head, echoing like cruel reminders.
We're done. We're done. We're done.
Her stomach twisted, nausea burning at the back of her throat. She could barely breathe. She had given everything to Ethan—her heart, her body, her trust—and with a few sharp words, he had torn it all apart.
She staggered to her feet, stumbling toward the couch, clutching at her chest as though she could hold the pieces of her heart together with her bare hands. The candles still burned weakly on the table, their glow mocking her, reminding her of what she had tried to create for them tonight—a night of love, of closeness, of saving what was slipping away.
But instead, he had left.
And she had let him.
Her body shook harder. "No," she whispered hoarsely, gripping the edge of the couch. "No, this can't be the end. Not like this."
She remembered the first time Ethan kissed her. They had been arguing even then—about something stupid, something small. But instead of finishing his sentence, he had grabbed her face and crushed his lips against hers. The heat of it, the hunger, had stolen the breath from her lungs.
That kiss had turned into a night she never forgot. His body pressing hers into the mattress, his hands everywhere, his voice a low growl against her ear as he told her she was his, only his.
Her cheeks burned with the memory, her body tightening with the ache of it. He had touched her in ways that made her forget the world, made her believe she was the only woman he could ever want.
And now he was gone.
"No," she whispered again, louder this time. "I won't let him leave me like this. I won't."
She wiped her face with shaky hands, her chest rising and falling in ragged breaths. She could still hear his car in her mind, the sound of his engine roaring as he drove away from her, from them.
Without thinking, she snatched her keys from the table and stumbled toward the door.
Her heart pounded furiously as she rushed down the steps of her apartment building, her tears blurring the lights of the street. She could almost see his car ahead, the red taillights fading into the night.
Her breath came in gasps, her body trembling, but her resolve hardened with every step.
She would not let him go. Not like this. Not without fighting for the love that had once set her soul on fire.
Her pulse thundered as she chased him, her breaths shallow, her sobs breaking free again.
All she could think was: If I can just catch him. If I can just make him listen.
She pressed harder on the gas…