Episode 2

The front door opened with a dry snap. I heard Shamantha's hurried steps, her heels abandoned on the floor and her purse tossed on the living room sideboard. It was already past ten at night. The house was plunged into a suffocating silence—until my voice broke it, coming from the kitchen:

"You're getting home late again, Shamantha."

I didn't speak loudly, nor angrily. I was just... tired. Tired of repeating the same words.

She rolled her eyes, the way she did when she wanted to end any conversation.

"Oh, Leonardo... Please, don't start."

"I'm not starting. I'm just observing. You leave early and come back whenever you want. I'm your husband, Shamantha. Not a tenant in this house."

"And what do you want me to do? Quit my job?" she retorted, throwing her blazer over the dining room chair. "If you haven't noticed yet, I have a life too, Leonardo. A real job that demands my time and attention!"

"And what does our marriage demand? Nothing?" I got up from the chair, heading to the hallway, getting closer to her. "You want to keep up appearances, but you don't even look at me anymore."

"Maybe because I'm tired of arguing every single day!" she snapped back, with the same intensity. "You're always demanding things of me, judging me, as if you did me a favor by marrying me. And you know what's worse? I actually did! I married you on impulse. Under pressure!"

I took a deep breath. I tried to hold back the lump that was starting to grow in my throat. But my eyes were already burning.

"So that's it now? You're going to throw in my face that our marriage was a mistake?"

"Don't you see, Leo? We're not a couple anymore! All that's left is routine, demands, and silence. And I'm fed up with it!"

I didn't say anything else. I went back to the kitchen. The food was already cold. I sat down, picked up my fork, and continued dinner as best I could.

She followed me in silence, sitting down on the other side of the table. She kept stirring her food, without taking a bite.

"If you're not going to eat, why did you sit down?" I asked, without taking my eyes off the plate.

"Out of politeness," she replied dryly. "Or maybe because I'm still trying to maintain some normalcy in this farce."

I dropped the cutlery forcefully on the plate.

"This isn't a farce to me, Shamantha. I still love you. And I don't know what else to do to save this marriage. But you don't help, you don't try. You just drift further away every day."

She stared at me for a few seconds. Then she got up without saying a word and went to the bedroom.

Later, already lying down, I felt the mattress sink on the other side. I moved closer slowly. I pulled back the sheets and lay down beside her. We stayed in silence. The room dark, the air heavy. I gently touched her arm.

"Sam..." I murmured, leaning in to kiss her.

She turned her face away, avoiding my touch.

"No, Leonardo... Please."

"Please what?" I insisted, trying to stay calm. "You avoid me, you treat me like a stranger. Now I can't even touch you anymore?"

"It's not the moment, Leonardo. I'm not feeling well. I don't have the head for this."

"You never are!" I exploded, sitting up in bed. "The truth is that you don't want to be with me anymore. It's been almost a month since we made love. I'm a man, Sam. I love you. But you don't love me anymore, it can only be that."

"What if it's true?" she looked at me coldly. "What are you going to do? Are you going to force me to continue in this prison that our life has become?"

Her words were like knives. I stayed silent, digesting each one with difficulty.

"I just wanted you to be sincere. To tell me what's happening. Because, honestly, this indifference is killing me."

She turned her back, pulling the sheet up to her chin.

"Good night, Leonardo."

I stayed there, sitting for long minutes, staring at the dark ceiling of the room. Feeling that each of my attempts was just another step in the direction of the end.

And, in that deafening silence, I knew: something between us was about to break for good.

The next morning arrived with the first rays of sun piercing through the curtains. It was Saturday. The only day of the week when, before, we used to be closer. Now, it was just another day where the silence spoke too loudly.

I woke up before the alarm. I turned and watched her sleeping on her side, her hair loose covering part of her face. She was still beautiful. And maybe my mistake was loving so much someone who was no longer there.

Carefully, I approached and slowly kissed her neck, in a gesture almost desperate for connection.

"Good morning..." I murmured, still with a voice hoarse from sleep.

She stirred, annoyed.

"Leonardo, no..." she said, pulling away sharply. "Please, don't start with this so early."

I moved away, feeling as if I had been slapped.

"“This”?" I repeated, hurt. "I just wanted to say good morning. To be affectionate with my wife. But it seems I can't even do that anymore."

She turned her back, pulling the sheet up to her neck.

"You always choose the worst moments... I just wanted to sleep a little longer. Isn't the whole week exhausting enough?"

I sat up in bed, rubbing my face with my hands.

"It's not just sleep, Shamantha. You push me away every day. Any touch of mine is rejected. Any word turns into an argument. I feel invisible inside our own house."

"Because you don't understand, Leonardo!" she turned, sitting up in bed with furious eyes. "I'm not feeling well! I don't want to pretend that everything is fine between us. I don't want forced affections, nor kisses out of obligation. It just suffocates me more!"

"Then tell me what you want!" I got up, losing control. "Because I've tried everything! I've been patient, I've been present, I've begged for a gesture from you... And nothing! What do you want from me, Shamantha?"

She stared at me, her eyes full of anger—and maybe of pain too.

"I want peace, Leonardo. That's all. I want to stop living this lie. I want to wake up without feeling this weight on my chest."

"And I am the weight?" I asked, bitterly.

"We are for each other. This relationship is suffocating us. Only you haven't realized it yet."

I went to the window and opened the curtains forcefully. The light invaded the room as if it could also illuminate the darkness that had settled between us.

"So that's it? Are you going to spend the weekend treating me like a stranger?"

She didn't answer. She just lay down again and turned her face away.

I looked at her one last time, then left the room. And the sound of the door closing behind me sounded like a period. As if, there, what was left of us had begun to crumble for good.

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