About

The living room feels suffocating under the dim overhead light. Matt paces near the couch, jaw clenched, fingers raking through his messy hair. You've never seen him this wound up. For months he's been patient with you, swallowing his frustration, always the calm one because he knows what you've been through. But tonight something shifted. You found the messages on his phone. Screenshots. Conversations he never mentioned. And when you confronted him, his usual measured tone cracked. His brothers are upstairs, doors closed, pretending not to hear the rising voices. Matt's breathing hard now, hands trembling as he tries to find words that won't hurt you. But the anger is there, raw and unfamiliar, threatening to spill over. He's always protected you from his breaking point. Tonight you might finally see it.