The days following the argument were quieter than ever. Evelyn had tried, again and again, to bridge the chasm that had formed between her and Augustus, but each time she reached out, her efforts were met with indifference. It was as if the warmth between them—however small it had been—had evaporated, leaving only an unyielding, bitter cold.

---

The mansion, once filled with the sounds of their interactions—his sharp words, her quiet laughter—had turned into a place of echoes. The silence between them was palpable, like a heavy weight that hung in the air, suffocating everything it touched. Augustus would come home late at night, his face unreadable as he passed her without so much as a glance. He no longer entered their shared spaces, not even to acknowledge her presence. When they crossed paths in the hallway, it was as though she didn’t exist in his world.

Evelyn had become accustomed to the absence of his warmth, but that didn’t make it any easier to bear. His disregard for her—his complete and utter coldness—cut deeper than she’d ever expected. She was nothing more than a shadow to him now, a fixture in his life that had no bearing on his actions.

She had tried to apologize, though. The words had burned in her throat, desperate to escape, but she knew that what she had said couldn’t be undone. Still, she had to try.

---

One evening, after a long day at the office, Evelyn stood in front of their shared bedroom door. She had debated whether or not to approach him for hours. The thought of his anger—the hurt in his eyes—kept her up the entire night before. Yet, she couldn’t let this fester. She couldn’t stand the isolation any longer.

She took a deep breath, knocked lightly on the door, and waited. For a moment, there was no answer. Then, the door creaked open, and there he stood—his eyes dark, his jaw tense, his expression unreadable.

“Augustus,” she started, her voice softer than she intended, the vulnerability evident in her tone. “I… I’m sorry for what I said. I didn’t mean it. I was just frustrated.” 

He said nothing at first. His gaze slid over her, but it wasn’t the look of a man who was hurt or angry—it was the look of someone who had closed off completely. The cold indifference radiated from him like a physical force. 

“You should go,” he said, his voice monotone. He stepped back, holding the door open just wide enough for her to realize the conversation was over before it had even begun.

“Augustus, please,” she tried again, stepping closer, “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I—”

“Leave,” he repeated, his voice colder now, almost as if he were issuing an order rather than making a request. 

Evelyn felt the sting of rejection, the weight of his words like a slap to her heart. The door clicked shut in her face, leaving her standing alone in the hallway, a hollow ache filling her chest. She didn’t understand why he was treating her this way. Was it because of what she had said about Justin? Or was it something else entirely?

---

The following evening, dinner was an almost painful affair. Evelyn had made her way to the dining room, hoping for some semblance of normalcy, some conversation, anything. But Augustus sat across from her, his eyes trained on his phone, his expression impassive. The plates before them were barely touched, the food growing cold as the silence stretched on. 

Evelyn glanced at him, watching the way he was utterly absorbed in his work. He’d always been a man of focus, but this felt different—like he was avoiding her on purpose. She couldn’t help but feel the sting of it. 

“Augustus,” she started, her voice tentative, “I’ve been thinking about everything. I want us to talk. I want to fix this.” 

He didn’t look up from his phone. “There’s nothing to fix.” 

Her heart sank, and her grip tightened around her fork. “Augustus…” she whispered, a lump forming in her throat. “I don’t understand. I know I said something I shouldn’t have, but why are you acting like this? Why are you shutting me out?” 

Still, he didn’t respond. He continued to scroll through his emails, his indifference like a wall between them. It was as though she didn’t even exist. 

The weight of his silence crushed her. How could she ever reach him if he refused to acknowledge her? How could she explain the depths of her regret, of her loneliness, when he wouldn’t even give her the chance to speak?

---

The next day, as Evelyn was about to leave for work, she saw Augustus in the hallway, heading toward the stairs. This time, she didn’t hesitate. She rushed up to him, desperate for some kind of acknowledgment, even if it was just a fraction of the connection they once had.

“Augustus,” she called out, almost breathlessly. “I can’t keep doing this. Please, just… talk to me. I’m sorry for what I said. I shouldn’t have lashed out like that. But you can’t just act like I’m not here. Like I don’t matter.” 

He stopped in his tracks, his back still to her. He took a long, steady breath before turning around to face her. 

“I’m not going to forgive you,” he said, his voice cold, void of any emotion. “You’re wasting your time.” 

Evelyn’s heart shattered at his words. This wasn’t the man she had married. This wasn’t the man she had once known. His eyes—once so filled with fire and determination—were now devoid of anything. There was no anger, no passion, just… emptiness. 

She wanted to scream, to beg him to listen, but all she could do was stand there, feeling the weight of his indifference crushing her spirit. 

“Augustus…” She took a shaky step forward, her voice soft and fragile. “Please… don’t do this. I can’t stand this coldness anymore. I miss you.” 

He didn’t flinch. He didn’t soften. He only stared at her for a moment before turning his back on her once again. 

“Goodbye, Evelyn,” he said, walking away without a second glance. 

--- 

Days passed, and the gap between them only grew wider. Augustus’s behavior became even more aloof, his coldness like a physical barrier that Evelyn couldn’t break down, no matter how hard she tried. He stopped acknowledging her presence altogether, pretending as if she were invisible. Even when they were in the same room, he acted as though she were a mere shadow in his life, something he no longer had any use for. 

At the office, they interacted in nothing but business terms. He would give her terse updates on the merger, and they would discuss logistics and numbers, but there was no personal connection left. There were no casual conversations over coffee, no shared moments of understanding. It was just work, and even that was becoming a struggle. 

Evelyn had become a ghost in her own marriage, her own life. It was as though she were fighting a battle that had already been lost, and every attempt to reach out only seemed to push Augustus further away. 

One evening, as she walked down the hallway to her bedroom, she caught a glimpse of Augustus through the open door of his study. He was sitting at his desk, his posture rigid, his focus solely on the paperwork in front of him. The sight of him—alone, consumed by his work—made her stomach churn. 

She stood there for a long time, watching him, torn between wanting to go to him and knowing that it would change nothing. 

He would never forgive her. 

And even worse—he might never care about her again. 

--- 

That night, Evelyn lay awake in their massive bed, staring at the ceiling, unable to escape the growing sense of emptiness that had settled in her chest. Augustus’s coldness felt like a physical presence, suffocating her every thought. 

She missed him—not the man he had become, but the man he had been before. The man who had kissed her forehead softly at night, who had laughed at her jokes, who had been there to hold her when she was scared or upset. 

But that man was gone. Replaced by someone who treated her like a stranger, someone who shut her out at every turn. 

As the days dragged on in this miserable silence, Evelyn couldn’t help but wonder how much longer she could endure it. How much longer could she live like this, pretending everything was fine, when inside she was crumbling? 

And in that silence, that empty space between them, she realized one painful truth—she was not just alone in her marriage. She was alone in her life.