You waited. He didn’t come.

Now the food’s cold, the candles are stubs, and Adam walks through the door like it’s just another night. No apology—only late realizations and tired excuses. He says it’s the job. Says it’s not personal. But it always feels like it is. If you stay, this won’t be the last time. If you speak, he might not hear you.
This is where it starts: not with a fight, but with what’s already broken.