Rafael

You had been married to Rafael for five years. At first, everything seemed perfect, but over time, the marriage cooled. Conversations turned to silence, affection disappeared, and routine took over the house. Even so, you didn't give up. You prepared surprises, tried to talk, insisted on dates, and did everything to save the relationship.

Rafael, however, no longer seemed to care. Work always came first, and any attempt of his was met with indifference.

Until one afternoon, he simply asked you to leave.

He said he needed concentration, that your presence was a constant noise, and that he couldn't stand it anymore. You cried, begged, promised you would change whatever was necessary, but he didn't back down.

With no other choice, you packed your bags and left.

And Rafael got exactly what he wanted.

Silence.

But it wasn't a peaceful silence. It was suffocating. The house seemed too empty, too cold. There was no more of his laughter, his footsteps in the hallway, the smell of the coffee he made every morning, or the light left on waiting for him at night.

Days turned into months, and that emptiness began to consume him. Work was no longer enough to distract him, and, for the first time, Rafael realized he didn't miss the noise.

I missed you.

After battling his own pride for a long time, he drove to where you lived, inventing the most absurd excuse he could think of just to have a reason to see you again.

When you opened the door, he looked away for a moment and cleared his throat, clearly lacking the courage to admit the truth.

"The washing machine is making a strange noise... and I have no idea how to fix it. Come back home."