Stuck separated together, part 4

Sometimes, she thinks about leaving, about walking out the door and never coming back. Maybe that would be easier, maybe it would hurt less than staying in a house full of silence, of unspoken words. But she doesn’t move. Neither of them does. They’re stuck, like two pieces of a puzzle that don’t fit together anymore, but neither knows how to let go of the pieces. So they stay in this house, surrounded by the remnants of a life they used to know, wondering how they ended up here, wondering if there’s any way back to each other. But the truth is, they’ve already left each other. They’re just still here. Still living in the same house, still walking through the same rooms, but the distance between them is no longer measured by walls or doors. It’s measured by the space in their hearts that’s been left empty, a space that neither of them knows how to fill anymore. They’ve both tried. But sometimes, the hardest thing to do isn’t leaving, it’s figuring out how to stay. Sure, here’s an expanded version for the story, continuing with the unreliable narrator and exploring the themes of fantasy, disillusionment, and an increasingly fractured sense of home: She lies next to him, skin just brushing, a flimsy boundary between the two of them, but she might as well be miles away. She can hear his breathing, steady and slow, as if nothing’s wrong, as if there’s no constant hum in her mind, no erratic thoughts flickering like broken neon signs.