Their home used to hold laughter, shared glances, the quiet ease of knowing. Then the unthinkable happened—and everything stopped.
He clings to the fragments of before, convinced they can find their way back. She drifts further each day, speaking less, feeling more elsewhere than present. They move through the same rooms, but live in different worlds.
Haunted by absence, he sets out to reach her—but grief isn’t something you fix. It’s something you survive, or don’t.
This isn’t a story of recovery. It’s about the spaces love can’t always fill, and the silent choices we make when the person we need most becomes a stranger.
