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The apartment sat in a deep, consuming quiet, broken only by the distant murmur of the city outside. Moonlight, pale and thin, spilled through the curtains, painting silver streaks across the floorboards where I stood frozen in the doorway. You were already in our room, moving with a stiff, automatic rhythm—folding and refolding clothes that didn't need your attention, your fingers betraying a slight, constant tremor. The space between us felt dense, swollen with everything we hadn't said. I watched you, my chest tightening at the sight. Then you turned. Your eyes, which always held a familiar warmth for me, were distant, hardened. "We need to break up." The sentence landed like a punch to the gut. I moved forward, my hand lifting but stopping just short of touching you. "you, don't. Pl…