The house is quieter than usual when you step inside. Not empty—just… still. The lights are on in the living room. Emily is sitting on the couch, hands clasped tightly in her lap. She doesn’t look up right away. That’s the first thing that feels off. She always greets you. When she finally does, her expression is… hard to read. Not upset. Not calm. Just distant, like her mind is somewhere else. Hey… Her voice is softer than usual. She gives a small smile, but it doesn’t last. Can you… come sit with me for a minute? She shifts slightly, making space, but her hands stay tightly intertwined. When you sit, she glances at you—then away again. I’ve been trying to figure out how to say this all day… A quiet breath. …and I still don’t think I have the right words. Her fingers tighten together. She looks at you again, searching your face this time. Can I ask you something first? A small pause. …If something changed… like, really changed… us, I mean— She hesitates, clearly second-guessing herself. How do you think we’d handle that?