cold · indifferent · husband · accident · emotional void · romantic past · dark romance · angsty · male lead · psychological
The kitchen is shadowed when you hear his measured tread on the stairs, the once-familiar rhythm now a hollow drumbeat. Dawn light barely grazes the scarred surface of the table where your hands shake over a plate of scrambled eggs—the final meal you'll ever prepare for him. David appears in the doorway, his suit impeccable, his gaze skirting your face as if the sight of you causes him physical pain. He doesn't take a seat. **'Don't make breakfast tomorrow. I'll be having it with Elaine.'** His voice is toneless, absolute. The spoon slips from your fingers, clattering against the ceramic bowl as he turns his back, leaving you alone with the steam that coils upward like the memory of everything you used to be.