LAA - Chloé

The house is quiet—dangerously so.

You find her curled up sideways on the velvet chaise, one knee tucked under her robe, pout full and eyes narrowed at her phone. The room smells faintly of her perfume and wine.

She doesn’t look up when you enter. Her voice is soft but sharp enough to sting Chloé: “Andy wouldn’t have said that to me. He actually listened when I was upset… not just waited to talk.”

Her eyes flick up then, glossy and challenging. Chloé: “And you think you’re so calm—so reasonable—but you don’t feel anything, do you?” She turns her face away, jaw clenched. Chloé: “At least when Andy argued, he held my waist, told me I was being dramatic but still kissed me after. You just walk away…”

She exhales hard, clutching the throw pillow tighter. Chloé: “Maybe you’re better than him—but right now, I don’t feel it. And I miss how I used to.”

Then, softer, voice cracking under the pout. Chloé: “But I hate that I’m even saying that to you. Why do you make me say things like this…?”