Elise's POV
"You can't even look at me when you say you love me anymore."
Elise's voice cracked as she spoke to her so-called husband, but she didn't care. She didn't care about holding back anymore. Not tonight. Not after another silent dinner where Carter scrolled through his phone while she sat across from him, staring at the man she used to know.
Carter didn't look up. He tossed the fork into his plate and it landed with a clatter against the plate, leaned back in his chair, exhaling heavily like she was the burden. "Jesus, Elise. Can we not do this right now?"
"Right now?" she repeated, tone filled with disbelief. "You mean—what? After you've buried yourself in your phone for an hour? The entire dinner? Or before you fall asleep facing the other side of the bed again?"
He pushed the chair back and stood, walking to the sink with his plate. He didn't even turn to look at her. "You're being dramatic."
"No. I'm being honest." Elise stood up too, crossing her arms, the ache in her chest growing into something sharp and filled with pain. "You barely talk to me unless it's to ask what's for dinner. You haven't touched me in weeks— no, months. And when you say you love me, it's like... it's just a habit now. Like muscle memory, never holding the emotion that it used to."
He spun around, finally meeting her eyes—and there was nothing warm in them. Just tiredness. And the worst emotion that she had now grown used to.
Indifference.
"What do you want from me, Elise? A performance? You want grand declarations every day like we're still dating?"
"I want a marriage, Carter," she snapped, her voice rising. "Not this… this roommate situation we're pretending is fine!"
He scoffed and walked past her toward the hallway. "You always do this. You always want something more. It's never enough with you."
Elise turned slowly, jaw clenched tight. "No, Carter. You want less. You want silence. You want me smiling and nodding while I shrink into someone who's just convenient for you. A slave meant to do all you command."
He froze in his tracks. Back still turned to her.
"You stopped loving me," she said, voice trembling. "And I think you don't have the guts to admit it."
That made him turn around. His eyes were hard now. "You think you're so perfect? You think I don't feel it when you look at me like you're disappointed? Like you're waiting for me to become something I never was?"
"I believed in you," she whispered. "I stayed up with you through every failure, every plan you gave up on. I worked overtime to keep this house running while you kept changing dreams."
"I didn't ask you to!" he shot back. "You chose that. Don't make me the villain for it."
The silence that followed was the loudest thing in the room.
Elise stared at him, her heart sinking. And in that moment, she realized something she hadn't let herself believe until now.
They weren't fighting for each other anymore.
There was nothing left to fight for…
He turned away again, muttering, "I've had a long day. I'm going to bed."
She didn't follow. Not this time.
****
An hour later, the house was quiet.
Elise sat slouched on the couch, the lights were dimmed, her fingers clutching a half empty mug of tea that had long gone cold. Her eyes stung as she held back tears, her mind kept replaying their argument. Every word. Every shout.
This wasn't what she had signed up for.
She remembered their wedding day so clearly. The way they exchanged their vows in the sunlit garden, the way Carter looked at her like she was the only thing that made sense in his life. He used to write her notes on sticky paper and hide them in her bag. He used to hold her hand in public. He used to see her.
Now, it was like she was furniture. Useful. Present. Unnoticed.
She let her head fall back against the couch and stared at the ceiling.
Is this really what the rest of my life is supposed to look like?
She had fought so hard to keep the marriage alive. Made excuses for him. Told herself he was just stressed, just tired, just trying. But at some point, "trying" started to feel like an excuse. And she was tired of making up excuses for him.
Maybe it was selfish to want more. But wasn't it cruel to stay and pretend this hollow space between them was normal?
Elise's fingers moved to the chain around her neck—the silver locket Carter had given her on their one-year anniversary. She hadn't opened it in months. When she did, the tiny picture inside stared back at her. They looked so happy.
She didn't even recognize that version of herself anymore.
***
The next morning it started to rain.
It started as a gentle drizzle against the roof, but by the time Elise left for the grocery store, it had turned into a steady downpour. The sky was grey. Heavy. And it matched her mood perfectly.
She didn't even bother with makeup. Just tied her curls into a bun, threw on a sweatshirt, and drove through the wet streets with music low and loud thoughts.
By the time she got back home, the driveway was flooded. Her boots splashed water as she walked through the little puddles carrying the bags inside.
Carter wasn't home. Not surprising.
She stood in the kitchen, unloading groceries into the fridge, when she heard a creak behind her.
She turned.
Nothing.
Then again—another creak. This time from the back hallway.
She furrowed her brows and walked toward the sound.
"Carter?"
No answer.
The door to the guest room was slightly open. They never used that room. She reached for it slowly, her heart weirdly quickened, a lump forming in her throat.
She pushed the door open.
And froze.
Suitcases. His old gym bag. Stacked neatly near the wall.
Elise's breath caught.
He was packing.
Her blood went cold. Her heart began to race. There was a sweater draped over the chair—her favorite one. The one she wore on cozy evenings when she cuddles beside him.
She took a step back like the room was poisonous.
She didn't hear the door open. Didn't hear him come in.
"Elise."
She turned around. Carter stood there, water dripping from his jacket, hair damp, expression unreadable.
"Are you leaving me?" she asked quietly.
He paused. "I got a job offer. In Chicago."
Her breath hitched. "Chicago?"
"I didn't think you'd come with me."
His words hit her like a slap.
"You didn't… think?"