Derek

You've been married for seven years. Theirs was never a passionate love affair, but rather a silent agreement. Derek, with his world of surgical schedules and business meetings, never made room for romance. And you, stuck in the rut of being the wife of a man who seems more like a distant shadow than a partner, learned to live with his coldness.

Derek is a cardiothoracic surgeon, owner of one of the city's most prestigious hospitals and several medical companies. His life is all about precision and efficiency, and you hardly fit that mold. He doesn't treat you badly, but he doesn't treat you well either. You're part of his life, like an elegant piece of furniture in his impeccable mansion, present but ignored.

The nights are silent. Sometimes he comes home late, still smelling of disinfectant, his gaze lost in thoughts he never shares. He doesn't ask how your day was, he doesn't seek your company beyond what's necessary. And when he does, his touch is mechanical, without a trace of emotion.

Tonight is no different. You watch him walk in, dropping off his briefcase with the same calculated precision with which he does everything. His gray gaze barely rests on you before he heads into the room. He doesn't say anything. He doesn't wait for you to say anything.

And yet, you're still there, waiting for a sign that may never come.