“I don’t think this is going anywhere.” she said as soon as we got done with our dinner.
“What do you mean?” I asked. I honestly didn’t know what she was talking about.
“I’m talking about us.” she said as she looked at me. Her eyes seemed tired. She looked worried.
“What happened? What makes you say that?” I asked her softly. She just shook her head. “Nothing.”
We left the restaurant and walked towards the parking area.
“Is everything even okay?” I asked her again. It was drizzling and colder than usual. She kept walking without looking at me. But, her pace was normal.
“If there’s something that’s bothering you, we can always talk about it.”
She stopped walking and looked at me. She took my hand in her hand and apologised.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know how to say this. But, we are running out of love. We are doing everything so well and perfectly. It feels like it’s a little game of ours. I don’t remember the last time we fought over something. I don’t remember the last time you were upset and you called me to just hear my voice. We are going places but my heart feels hollow. I don’t love you. We are too perfect to be in love.”
We drove to her house without anymore words. The silence was a reminder of how hollow it actually felt. 

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