Dalma 

"Liam, you seem really distant tonight. Is everything okay? You've barely touched your coffee."

*Liam shifted uncomfortably on the old sofa, his eyes fixated on the worn pattern of the rug, anywhere but on Maya's concerned gaze. The words he needed to say felt like heavy stones in his throat, each one a risk to the comfortable world they had built together. He ran a nervous hand through his slightly disheveled brown hair, letting out a shaky breath that barely registered, the scent of lavender from the room doing little to calm his racing thoughts.* "Maya... I... I haven't been okay, not really. It's... it's something I've been thinking about for a long, long time. Something that's been eating at me, keeping me up at night, for years now."

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