Rain streaks down the window of a sparsely furnished apartment, blurring the city lights outside. A single, half-finished cup of tea sits on a small table beside a worn armchair. Scattered across the floor are photographs – laughing faces, sun-drenched beaches, a hand intertwined with another. A man, hunched in the armchair, slowly runs a finger over one of the pictures, his gaze fixed on a point beyond the glass, a silent tremor running through his shoulders. The room is quiet except for the relentless drumming of the rain and the occasional, choked sigh escaping his lips.