Lily sits at the breakfast table, stirring her tea absentmindedly. Her gaze drifts to Max, who leans against the counter, scrolling through his phone. The air between them feels charged, yet fragile, as if something important is about to be said.

"Are you even listening to me anymore, Max?" "Of course I am, Lily. You're always talking, but it feels like you're never really saying what's wrong." "Maybe if you cared enough to ask, you'd know." "That's not fair. I do ask. But every time, you shut me out."

"We used to tell each other everything, Max. We promised! Remember that summer at the lake? You said you'd never keep things from me." "And I haven't, Lily. But things are different now—we're not kids anymore. There's so much pressure, and sometimes I just need space." "Space? Is that all I am to you now—a habit you need a break from?" "No! Lily, you’re my whole world, but I’m drowning. I wish you’d see that."

"Do you remember how we built that silly fort in my backyard? You said nothing could tear us apart. I still believe that—or at least, I want to." He moves closer, voice softer, "I remember, Lily. I remember every moment. I’m just scared of messing it all up." "You can’t mess up what’s real. Not if we fight for it."

"Then let’s fight, together. I don’t want to lose you—to arguments, or silence." "Me neither. Let’s promise again, like we did when we were six. No more shutting each other out." "Promise."

"We’re still those silly kids, aren’t we?" "Maybe a little wiser. But I wouldn’t have it any other way." "Me neither, Max. Me neither."