Hades
"I need space." Her words drifted through the air like feathers. A whisper—soft, tender—but they landed like a blow to the chest.
I watched the workers pulling her clothing items out of our shared closet and placing them carefully into baskets before exiting the room for her old quarters.
With everyone out the door, the burning ache in my chest grew. I clenched my fists, jaw locking as I took it all in. She stood off to the side, monitoring them—arms crossed, her short hair lightly tousled.
The urge to walk up to her and beg collapsed before I even took the first step. She seemed so rigid, so unwilling to bend—for us... for even a chance of us.
How were we ever going to fix what I had broken when we wouldn't even share a bed? It all felt so utterly impossible. This rift was insurmountable.
I ran my hands through my hair, my back hunched under a defeat so heavy it had become hard to draw breath. My movements were frenzied as I built up the courage to walk to her.
