Christopher came back to the room, a tray of food balanced carefully in his hands. His steps were measured and his movements were deliberate as he navigated the space.
Abigail was still in the closet, her voice cold and detached. "Put it on the dresser, please."
Christopher's frustration simmered below the surface, but he complied silently. He placed the tray of food on the dresser with a careful touch.
The coldness in her words pinched his heart, a stinging reminder of the distance that had crept between them. This wasn't how he envisioned their day going. He wanted passion, excitement, and connection, not this awkward, forced distance.
However, he understood that this was necessary. For Abigail, it was a matter of self-preservation; for him, it was a chance to demonstrate his commitment.
