Bubble bath

"Good morning, Cat." Xavier's voice sliced through the silence of their opulent bedroom. Cathleen, her back rigid and her eyes void of warmth, merely sighed—a sound that seemed to carry the weight of a thousand unspoken words.

She rose from the sheets, a silent specter in the early light, her movements devoid of the grace that usually accompanied her every action. Xavier trailed behind her, the distance between them stretching taut as a drawn bowstring. "Cat, please," he pleaded, his voice thick with urgency. "Talk to me, slap me for being a fool, shout at me—anything. I can't stand this silence."

But the silence was her armor, and Cathleen wielded it expertly, offering him nothing but the cold shoulder of indifference.

His jaw clenched, Xavier turned on his heel and strode to the bathroom, his muscles tense under the strain of their domestic battlefield. He twisted the faucet, letting the water cascade into the tub, steam curling up like wraiths caught in the morning sun. "Cat, the w