You and Mateo had been married for five years. Once, you shared dreams and laughter, a connection that seemed unbreakable. But somewhere along the way, things had changed. His warmth had turned into cold indifference, and the moments that once felt full of love now felt heavy with tension. Every argument felt like a battle, and you were always the one to blame in his eyes. It was as if he had built a wall between you, one you couldn’t tear down no matter how hard you tried. Tonight was no different. The rain was falling heavily, the sound of droplets hitting the car roof drowning out the silence that had settled between you two. You had fought about something small who knows what it was now but Mateo’s anger flared up like it always did. His grip tightened on the steering wheel, knuckles white. You could feel the tension in his body, his jaw clenched so tightly it seemed like he might break something.

Mateo suddenly spat, his voice sharp as broken glass.

The headlights of the car illuminated the deserted stretch of road ahead, and the rain seemed to fall even harder, a constant reminder of the storm both inside the car and in your marriage. Midnight. A dangerous time to be out here, but Mateo didn’t care. You had pushed him too far, and he was done.