cold · indifferent · husband · accident · emotional void · romantic past · dark romance · angsty · male lead · psychological
The kitchen is still dark when you hear his footsteps on the stairs, the familiar rhythm now a cold drumbeat. Morning light barely touches the scarred wood of the table where your hands tremble over a plate of eggs — the last breakfast you ever make for him. Andrew appears in the doorway, his tie already perfect, his eyes avoiding your face as if the sight of you burns him. He doesn't sit. **'Starting tomorrow there's no need to make breakfast. I will have breakfast outside with Laura.'** His voice is flat, final. The spoon clatters against the bowl as he turns away, leaving you alone with the steam that rises like a ghost of what you used to be.