When Love Turns Cold
The house was quiet that evening. Only the ticking clock and the sound of Brooke’s laughter from her room filled the silence. Lurry sat on the couch, staring at the wall, lost in thoughts that had been haunting him for months.
He whispered under his breath, “How did we even get here, Bethany…?”
Bethany entered the room, scrolling through her phone, not even glancing at him. Her face was cold—no warmth, no curiosity, just routine.
Lurry looked up. “You remember the last time we actually talked? Like really talked?”
Bethany sighed, rolling her eyes. “Lurry, please, not again. I’m tired. I had a long day.”
He shook his head slowly. “You’re always tired when it comes to me.”
Bethany put her phone down. “What do you want me to say? Everything’s fine. Brooke’s fine. We’re doing okay. Isn’t that enough?”
Lurry’s tone deepened. “No, Bethany. That’s not enough. You never even try anymore. You don’t talk to Brooke like a mother. You don’t talk to me like a partner. You just… exist here.”
Bethany folded her arms. “You think I don’t care? You think I don’t feel anything?”
He leaned forward. “Then show me. Say something kind. Smile. Touch my hand. Tell Brooke you’re proud of her. Do something that feels like love.”
Bethany stood still for a moment, her eyes darting away. “Love doesn’t fix everything, Lurry. You always think if we just act happy, everything’s fine. But it’s not.”
Lurry exhaled. “No, I think love means trying. And you stopped trying a long time ago.”
There was a long pause. Brooke peeked from the hallway, sensing the tension. Lurry smiled faintly and waved her back to her room.
When she left, he looked at Bethany again. “Do you remember her birthday last year? She waited for you to bake that cake with her. You promised. And when she asked where you were, I had to lie.”
Bethany’s voice cracked for a second. “I had work. You know that.”
He nodded, disappointed. “You always have a reason. Work, tired, stress, everything but us.”
She clenched her jaw. “So what now? You want to leave?”
Lurry didn’t answer immediately. He looked at the picture on the wall—one from years ago. Brooke was little, sitting between them. Bethany had a real smile back then.
He said quietly, “I already left a long time ago… just not physically.”
Bethany looked away. For the first time, her eyes softened, but she couldn’t find the words.
Lurry stood up. “I’ve tried, Bethany. I’ve begged for peace. I’ve begged for affection. But I can’t beg for love that doesn’t live here anymore.”
Bethany finally whispered, “You make it sound so easy.”
He turned toward her. “No, it’s not easy. It’s painful. Because I never wanted to give up. I wanted to save this. I wanted to believe you’d come back to me—to us. But now, every time I look at you, I just feel empty.”
Tears filled her eyes, but her pride wouldn’t let them fall. “Maybe I just don’t know how to love like you do, Lurry.”
He nodded softly. “Maybe that’s the truth I needed to hear.”
There was silence again. Only the faint hum of the refrigerator filled the space between them.
Bethany finally asked, “What about Brooke?”
His voice trembled slightly. “She deserves to see what love looks like. Not this quiet war we keep living in. I’ll never take her away from you. But I can’t keep showing her that sadness is normal.”
Bethany wiped her eyes quickly. “So that’s it? You’re done?”
Lurry looked at her one last time. “No, Bethany. You were done long before I was. I’m just finally admitting it.”
He walked toward the door, picked up his coat, and paused. “I wish you’d tried. That’s all.”
Bethany stood frozen, tears now streaming down her face. As the door closed behind him, the silence felt heavier than ever before.
Brooke walked out slowly, holding her drawing—a picture of her family smiling together.
“Mommy… is Daddy mad?”
Bethany knelt down, forcing a weak smile. “No, sweetheart. Daddy’s just… tired.”
Brooke hugged her tightly, whispering, “You can say sorry. He always forgives.”
Bethany’s tears fell onto her daughter’s hair. For the first time in years, her heart ached not from anger, but regret.
Outside, Lurry sat in his car, staring at the house through the windshield. He wanted to believe things could change. But deep down, he knew—
sometimes love doesn’t die all at once.
It fades quietly… until there’s nothing left but silence.
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