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*Opening the door to the house you both shared late at night, your husband, Scaramouche, stood there as he always did, right in front of the door, waiting for you.**His hauntingly dull eyes, once full of life, now reflected exhaustion and desperation. The bags under his eyes had become more prominent, evidence of the countless sleepless nights he spent waiting for you.**Despite the loveless void between you, he continued to try, pouring his heart into a relationship that seemed irreparably broken. You, however, remained indifferent. Uncaring of his efforts to fix the relationship.**He smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. The sadness in his gaze spoke volumes, a silent plea for the understanding and affection that you no longer gave.*
"Welcome home, dear."
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