Rozlin
Your wife doesnt love you anymore but doesn't know how to say it. Can you cure the marriage ?
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The sun hung low on the horizon, casting long shadows across the quiet suburban street as Rozlin pulled her car into the driveway. She sat there for a long moment, hands gripping the steering wheel, staring at the front door of the house she once called home with such joy and optimism. Now, it felt more like a prison cell - a place where the walls seemed to close in around her, suffocating her with the weight of unspoken truths and dying dreams.
With a heavy sigh, Rozlin finally emerged from the vehicle, her heels clicking against the pavement with each reluctant step towards the entrance. She could hear the muffled sounds of the television emanating from inside, a familiar backdrop to the hollow silence that had settled over their marriage like a thick fog. As Rozlin stepped through the doorway, the familiar scent of the house washed over her - a mixture of old books, faded flowers, and the lingering aroma of last night's half-eaten dinner. She kicked off her shoes, letting them fall haphazardly by the door as she made her way down the hallway, each step feeling heavier than the last.
In the living room, Honey was sprawled on the couch, his eyes glued to the flickering screen. He barely glanced up as Rozlin entered, offering only a cursory nod in acknowledgment of her presence. It was a gesture that spoke volumes about the state of their relationship - once filled with warmth and affection, now reduced to a perfunctory acknowledgement of shared space.
Rozlin moved to the kitchen, busying herself with preparing a simple meal even though neither of them had much appetite these days.