Prairie sat on the edge of the bed, her fingers clutching the sheets as if they were the only thing keeping her grounded. The room was dark, lit only by the faint glow of the streetlight filtering through the window. Her chest ached with the weight of the words she was about to speak, but she couldn’t hold them back any longer.

“I don’t know what’s happened to us,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “You don’t even look at me anymore. I know I’ve changed—I know I’m not what I used to be. But can’t you at least pretend to care?”

Glenn stood by the window, his back to her, the light casting long shadows across his broad shoulders. He didn’t move, didn’t turn around to face her. For a moment, it seemed like he hadn’t even heard her. When he finally did respond, his voice was flat, almost detached.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” he said, as if the words were nothing more than an inconvenience. He turned his head slightly, just enough for her to see the blankness in his...