Rose closed her eyes and slowly began drifting off

Caden’s grip on the balcony railing tightened, his knuckles white. His breath came a little quicker now, the cool night air doing little to calm the storm inside him. He was trapped in the loop of his own thoughts, each pass of It doesn’t matter spiraling deeper into a place he didn’t want to go.

Why am I doing this? he thought, his mind racing. Why can’t I stop?

The weight of his empire—the decisions he’d made, the power he’d built, all of it—began to feel like chains, wrapping tighter around him with each passing second. It doesn’t matter, he repeated once more, his voice barely audible in the quiet night. But it felt so empty now. Hollow. A lie.

He glanced down at the city below, the distant lights blinking in the darkness, indifferent to his turmoil. The world kept spinning, but for him, it felt like everything was frozen. The silence around him seemed to press in, suffocating. He didn’t know how to stop the spiral, how to silence the nagging thoughts that continued to crawl under his skin.

It doesn’t matter.

A thought pierced through the fog, sharp and clear. What if I’m just fooling myself? The question echoed in his head, louder than anything else. His eyes widened slightly, and for the first time in a long while, he didn’t know the answer. The thought was unsettling, the truth of it threatening to unravel everything he had convinced himself was real.

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, but his chest felt tight. Every breath seemed to echo in the stillness of the night, reminding him how far he was from the calm he desperately needed. What am I running from?

The question hung there, unanswered, a growing weight that settled in his gut. Maybe it wasn’t just the empire, or the deals, or the power he’d fought so hard to build. Maybe it was something deeper. Something he couldn’t put his finger on. Something that made him constantly search for control, for the illusion that it all mattered.

But now, standing alone in the dark, with only the cold air and his restless thoughts, it felt like he was just running in circles.

It doesn’t matter.

He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, the word escaping his lips again, but this time, there was no conviction behind it. Just exhaustion. A hollow echo.

He stared out at the city for a few more moments, his mind too tangled to make sense of it all. He didn’t know how long he stood there—minutes, hours, maybe even longer—but eventually, he pushed away from the railing, the weight of the night pressing against him.

The door to the balcony creaked open as he stepped back inside, the warmth of the bedroom feeling almost foreign after the coolness outside. He closed the door softly behind him, the click of it echoing in the silence of the room.

But the questions remained. The uncertainty. The feeling that somehow, despite everything, it didn’t matter.

Rose slept, dreaming of Caden

Caden moved back into the dimly lit room, the door clicking shut behind him, cutting off the cool air and the quiet of the night. But as the warmth of the bedroom surrounded him, it only made the thoughts in his head feel more suffocating. The stillness that had settled in his chest seemed to have followed him back inside. He stood there for a long moment, his back to the door, unsure of what to do next.

The city lights from the balcony still burned brightly in his mind, a distant reminder of everything he couldn’t quite reach. He walked across the room in slow, deliberate steps, as though he were moving through a fog. The bed, the soft sheets, the silence—it all felt so far removed from the chaos swirling inside of him.

It doesn’t matter. He muttered it once more under his breath, but the words barely left his lips before he found himself rubbing his temples, his fingers pressing hard against the headache building behind his eyes. The weight of everything—the company, the expectations, the constant fight to maintain control—pressed down on him, relentless and unyielding.

He stared at the dark window for a moment, feeling the coldness of the night still hanging in his bones, though his body was warm inside. His reflection stared back at him, the same face, the same look of someone who had everything, but somehow felt like he was losing it all.

Caden let out a frustrated sigh and moved toward the small bar in the corner of the room. He poured himself a drink, the liquid dark and rich in the glass. He didn’t really want it, but it was something to do. Something to numb the gnawing unease inside.

He took a sip, the burn of the alcohol sharp on his tongue, but it didn’t take away the heaviness in his chest. He set the glass down on the counter, staring at it for a long moment, wondering if it would be enough to erase the endless questions racing through his mind.

What’s wrong with me? he thought, finally. Why can’t I just accept this?

He shook his head, not wanting to confront the thought, not ready to admit it to himself. He wanted to be content with the life he had built, with the wealth, the success, the stability. But the more he tried to settle into it, the more restless he became. It felt like he was grasping for something just out of reach, something that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t seem to find.

A soft noise from the bed broke his thoughts. He turned his head to see Murphy, his loyal Great Dane, lazily lifting his head from the blankets, eyes half-open, his large body stretching out on the bed as though trying to mimic Caden’s weariness. Caden gave a small, rueful smile. Murphy was the only thing in this world that never demanded anything from him, the only constant in the ever-shifting chaos of his life.

But even Murphy couldn’t erase the doubt that gnawed at him, couldn’t answer the questions he was too scared to ask.

Caden slowly walked back to the bed, sitting down at the edge, his gaze drifting out to the window once more. It doesn’t matter, he told himself again, but it didn’t sound convincing anymore. The words had lost their power.

He reached for the remote on the nightstand, turning on the TV with a flick of his wrist, trying to drown out the silence in his head. But even as the show started playing, the soft noise of it fading into the background, the questions still lingered.

And for the first time in a long time, Caden wasn’t sure if he had the strength to answer them.

Rose woke about an hour later and went sleepily upstairs. She laid down on the bed beside Caden, just wanting his closeness to her.

Caden sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the TV as it flickered to life. The noise, the familiar hum of a show he could care less about, was almost comforting in its mundanity. It was a distraction, at least. A brief reprieve from the storm inside his head.

He picked up the glass from earlier, taking another sip of the alcohol. The burn hit him again, but it was no match for the ache in his chest, the gnawing sense of uncertainty that seemed to be growing with every passing minute. He set the glass down, the clink of it against the table barely audible over the sounds of the show.

The words, It doesn’t matter, still echoed in his mind, like a broken record. He wasn’t sure if he believed it anymore or if he was just trying to convince himself that it was true. Maybe it was easier to say it than face the truth.

A brief moment of clarity struck him, sharp as a knife. Maybe it does matter, he thought. But before he could dig deeper into the thought, it was swallowed up by the dark space that had been consuming him. The show on the TV droned on, but it was all background noise now. He couldn’t focus on it, not when everything felt like it was slipping.

He stood up suddenly, the tension in his body building. It doesn’t matter. His voice, barely a whisper, came out hoarse this time, like he was trying to drown it, to force it into submission.

He couldn’t escape the suffocating feeling that had crept into his life. The control he’d worked so hard to maintain, the empire he’d built with his own two hands—none of it felt real anymore. And the worst part was, he wasn’t sure he even wanted it to be.

It doesn’t matter. The words twisted in his mind, a mantra he couldn’t shake, even as he tried to find some semblance of peace.

Caden walked over to the window, pulling the curtains aside. The view of the city sprawled out before him, distant lights dotting the skyline like tiny, unreachable stars. He let his gaze linger on it, feeling a sense of disconnect. The world kept spinning, oblivious to his internal struggle.

It doesn’t matter. He said it again, to himself this time, a futile attempt to convince himself of the truth. But the more he repeated it, the more he realized how much it did matter.

The empire. The choices. His life. It all mattered, even if he didn’t know how to reconcile it all.

The weight of it all felt unbearable now. For the first time, he wasn’t sure if he was strong enough to keep pushing forward, to keep pretending it didn’t matter.

With a deep, shaky breath, Caden pulled the curtains shut and sank back onto the bed. He ran a hand through his hair, staring at the ceiling, lost in thought. His chest tightened again, the emptiness creeping in.

It doesn’t matter, he repeated to himself once more, but this time, the words felt hollow. And for the first time, Caden didn’t know how to stop the ache.

Rose saw Caden lay down on the bed, and curled up beside him, closing her eyes

Caden lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, his mind swirling with every thought he’d been trying to bury. The weight of everything he had—the empire, the power, the expectations—felt like a prison now. The words It doesn’t matter no longer provided the comfort they once had. Instead, they became a reminder that he was slipping further away from any sense of peace.

He closed his eyes, trying to escape into the dark behind his lids, but it didn’t work. Every time he tried to clear his mind, the images came rushing back—the deals, the ruthless choices, the moments he’d made to maintain control. All of it now felt hollow, empty, like it didn’t really matter anymore. And yet, it was all he knew. It was the only thing that defined him.

A deep frustration bubbled up in his chest. What am I doing? The question lingered, unanswered, heavy in the air around him. He could almost hear his own voice echoing in his mind, asking him why he couldn’t just be content, why he couldn’t just step back and breathe for once. But the answer, if there even was one, was too far out of reach. He was trapped.

It doesn’t matter.

He muttered it under his breath again, but it didn’t have the same force. The phrase felt weak now, meaningless in a way it never had before.

Caden swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat up, his feet hitting the cool floor. He ran his hands through his hair again, restless, unable to sit still. There was no quiet, no peace, not even in the solitude of his own home. It felt like he was drowning in his own mind, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t swim to the surface.

The sound of his phone vibrating on the nightstand made him flinch, snapping him out of his spiral for a moment. He glanced at it. It was a message from his assistant, a reminder of the meetings and demands waiting for him tomorrow.

Caden stared at the screen for a long moment, the message blurring in his vision. He didn’t feel like dealing with it, didn’t feel like being that person, the one who had to constantly be on, always moving, always in control. But he had no choice. He never did.

The weight of the world was still on his shoulders, pressing down on him with relentless force. And no matter how many times he tried to tell himself it doesn’t matter, it never went away.

He tossed his phone back onto the bed, his hands gripping the edge of the mattress tightly as he took a slow, steadying breath. For a fleeting moment, he considered shutting everything down, stepping away from it all. Maybe a break, a chance to breathe, would be the answer. But the thought quickly faded. He knew better. The empire wouldn’t stop for him. No one would.

Caden stood up again, pacing the room, restlessness boiling inside him. The show on the TV was still playing in the background, but the noise was just a blur now. He didn’t hear it, didn’t see it.

He stopped in front of the window again, looking out at the city, his reflection faint in the glass. For a long time, he just stood there, trying to make sense of everything, of who he was and who he was becoming. He hated the emptiness that had crept into his life, the sense that everything he’d fought for had started to lose its meaning.

It doesn’t matter, he thought again, but this time, it didn’t feel like a lie. It felt like a truth he couldn’t avoid. And that terrified him more than anything else.

Caden ran his hand through his hair, the weight of everything pressing in on him. Maybe, for the first time, he was starting to understand just how much it mattered—and how little he knew about how to fix it.

Rose opened her eyes as he moved, worried about him. She sat up and moved over beside him. She placed a hand on his back, slowly rubbing it and hoping to provide comfort. "What's wrong?" She asked quietly, searching his face for any hint or sign

Caden stood there for a long moment, his eyes closing as Rose’s presence surrounded him like a quiet, comforting weight. She hadn’t said anything, hadn’t pushed him to speak, and yet, the silence between them felt like a space he could finally breathe in. For the first time in ages, the words began to spill out, raw and unfiltered.

“The thing is… I don’t know who I am in all of this anymore. This empire, the business, all these... deals I’ve made, the power I’ve fought to hold onto—it’s become something I don’t even recognize. It feels like I’ve built this wall around myself, this... this prison, and now I’m trapped inside it. I used to think I had control, that I could manage it, but I’m losing myself. The pressure, the expectations—they’re suffocating.”

He paused, running a hand through his hair, feeling the weight of the words settle in his chest.

“I’ve made choices, ruthless ones, to protect it all. To make sure I stay at the top. But now... it doesn’t feel like protection anymore. It feels like a cage. And every time I take a step, every time I try to move forward, I feel like I’m sinking deeper into it. I thought I was building something meaningful, something that mattered, but now... now I just feel like I’m keeping it all together because I have no choice. Like it’s all just a facade.”

His voice grew quieter, tinged with frustration. “The people, the power, the deals—they’ve all become a blur. Nothing feels real anymore. I don’t even know who I’m doing it for anymore. There’s always someone pulling at me, needing something, demanding something from me. And I don’t have anything left to give.”

Caden exhaled shakily, his hands gripping the edge of the window. He could feel the weight of the city below him, the constant hum of it pressing in, the noise, the movement, the never-ending demand.

“I need a break, Rose. From all of it. I need to step away from everything, even if it’s just for a little while. I can’t keep pretending that this is who I’m meant to be, that I’m okay with all of this. I’m not. And I can’t keep burying myself in this business, this empire, pretending it’s all going to fix itself if I keep pushing forward.”

His voice cracked slightly, the vulnerability that had been buried beneath layers of control and ambition now spilling out, raw and unguarded. “I need to focus on myself. I need to start fixing what’s broken. Maybe I need to find out who I am outside of all of this. Without the empire, without the pressure... without the constant fight to stay at the top. Because I don’t know if I even want to stay at the top anymore. I’m not sure it’s worth it.”

He turned toward her, his eyes weary, but this time, they softened as they met hers. Slowly, he took her hands in his, his grip firm but gentle. He wanted her to feel his words, feel the weight of them as they left him. “I don’t feel good enough for you anymore, Rose. I know I’ve been distant, but it’s more than that. I’m not the person I was when we first met. I don’t even know where that person went. The one who could laugh and make you smile, the one who was full of life, who had hope. I can’t even remember what it felt like to be him.”

His voice wavered, and for a moment, his eyes dropped to their hands before returning to her face. “I’m broken, Rose. I’ve been pretending, pushing through it, but I don’t think I can anymore. I need time. Time to figure out who I am without all of this... this weight on me. Without all the pressure to keep going, to keep pretending I’m someone I’m not. I need space to rebuild, to get back to the person I was when we first started dating. The person you fell in love with.”

His chest tightened, and he swallowed hard, trying to steady his breath. He could feel the lump in his throat, the tightness in his chest. This wasn’t easy, but it was necessary.

“I need a break, Rose,” he repeated, his voice quieter now, a little weaker. “Even from you.”

And with that, he let go of her hands gently, his heart heavy, but his mind clearer than it had been in a long time. He wasn’t sure what came next, or how long it would take to find himself again, but for the first time in a while, he felt like he had at least started the journey toward figuring it out.