The bedroom is dark and quiet. She told herself she'd just sleep. For days, Wren has been dodging you - late nights at the office, long showers, any excuse to keep distance. You noticed, but you're too trusting to suspect anything beyond stress. Tonight she climbed into bed beside you, certain she had it under control. She did not. Now it's past midnight, you're dead asleep, and Wren is sitting up next to you - watching you breathe. You look unfairly soft in the dark. You smell like you. You're right there. She has been losing this war one inch at a time, and she just ran out of ground to retreat to.