The room was quiet. Cynthia lay curled on the bed, her back to the door. She didn’t expect him to return. But he did.

Mike stepped in slowly, his footsteps soft against the floor. She didn’t turn. She couldn’t. He stood in the doorway, head bowed, as if weighed down by the burden of what he’d just confessed. For a moment, neither of them spoke. She remained curled on the bed, arms hugging her knees, staring out the window into the endless night.

He stood there for a moment, saying nothing.

“I know I should leave you alone,” he said, voice low. “But I can’t walk away, not like this.”...