The light above cast harsh shadows across the room. The silence was suffocating, pressing down on Brianna's chest with tangible weight. She wasn't surprised. She knew what was coming.

She ran her fingers over the edge of her coffee mug, its ceramic surface cool against her skin, listening for the sound of his footsteps—heavy and deliberate—knowing they were only moments away. She'd spent years learning to read the tension in the air, the way his presence shifted the atmosphere like an approaching storm front. And now, just like always, the storm was approaching.

She took a deep breath, letting the moment stretch longer than it needed to, the scent of freshly brewed coffee mixing with the faint citrus aroma of the lemon she'd been squeezing earlier still lingering in the air. "We're doing this again, aren't we?" she muttered to the empty room, her voice quiet but laced with something sharper than resignation. The words weren't really a question—they were a statement, one she had been avoiding saying out loud for too long.

But she knew they both had no choice but to face it. The cycle was already in motion, and like so many times before, neither of them seemed capable of hitting pause.