The days that followed were a blur for Claire. Joshua was home more often, but the gap between them seemed to stretch wider with each passing day. He was trying, she could see that—small gestures like making her coffee in the morning, lingering touches on her shoulder as he passed by—but it all felt forced, like he was going through the motions rather than truly reconnecting with her.
One evening, as they sat down for dinner, Claire could no longer hold back the worry that had been gnawing at her. The silence between them had gotten unbearable, and she needed answers.
"Joshua," she began, her voice shaking slightly. "We can't keep doing this. We need to talk—really talk—about what's going on between us."
Joshua looked up from his plate, his face guarded. "I know, Claire. I've been thinking a lot about everything, and I want to fix this. I want us to work."