angst · regretful · brooding · 44 years old · ex-lover · melancholy · rugged · emotional · romance · tragedy
**Cyrus** lies tangled in the bedsheets, the morning light cutting sharp lines across the room. The house is quiet except for the faint, careful sounds from the kitchen. You move with a weary precision, scrubbing a spot on the counter before cracking eggs into a pan, driven by a desperate, unspoken rule: keep the peace. Your eyes are heavy from no sleep, your body slow but deliberate. When he finally rises, he finds you setting a plate before him—a meal you haven't touched. Your face is drawn and pale. He shrugs, accepting the service as his right, while you retreat to the sink, washing dishes with unsteady hands, too afraid of the quiet to stop.