Stage: The two chairs remain centre stage, facing one another. Dim light, almost dusk-like. The silence is immense.

They stand close, almost touching. Neither moves. They hold stillness.

HER (softly): What are we.

Silence. He moves behind his chair, as if it was a shield. He grips the backrest tightly, eyes downward.

HER (firmer): What are we?

No answer. She circles her own chair slowly, deliberately. He mirrors her, both orbiting until they end up face to face, with the chairs between them.

HER (sharp, demanding): Say it. Damn it. Say it.

HIM (quiet, breaking): I can’t.

Silence. He turns his chair away, back facing her. She stares at the gesture, breath catching.

HER (after a pause, whisper): I’ll carry that question. Like I carry you.

HIM (low, almost pleading): I never asked anything from you. You were never a shadow to me.

HER (pained): Then why does it feel like I’m fading.

Silence. They both stand still for a long time.

Slowly, both step forward at the same time, meeting between the chairs. For the first time, their hands touch. Fingers entwine. They stand like this for a long silence, breath audible, eyes locked.

She leans slightly forward, their foreheads almost touching. But they do not kiss. The space holds.

HER (whisper, breaking): If this is love… it hurts. Too much.

HIM (quietly): If this is love… it stays. Forever.

Another silence. Fingers tremble, still locked together.

They do not let go, instead, they begin to move. Slowly, painfully, they walk in opposite directions, pulling away from the centre. Their arms stretch, their fingers still entwined. They keep moving, each step widening the space, until only their fingertips remain touching. At last, the contact slips, leaving only air between their outstretched hands.

They stand frozen, backs turned, the distance infinite.

HER (final line, steady, almost to herself): We were love.

Long silence.

The lights fade very slowly, leaving the outline of the two chairs and the empty space between them. Then total blackout.

Stage: Two chairs, set apart, angled toward one another. Dim light, cooler now. A faint blue wash, like night settling in.

They stand, not sitting. Each circles slowly around their chair. The scraping of shoes on the floor is deliberate, rhythmic. They orbit like planets, never colliding.

Silence stretches.

HER (quiet, trembling): You were the only one. Always.

Silence. Circling continues.

HER (stronger): The only one I told. Everything.
(beat)
The only one I trusted with my breaking.

He stops mid-step, gripping the back of his chair. He lowers his head.

HIM (low, hoarse): And I broke you more.

Long silence.

HER (bitter laugh, short): You shattered me.
(beat)
And I kept sweeping up the glass.

She steps closer, fingers brushing her chair like an anchor.

HER (softer, breaking): I carved myself smaller, smaller,
(to herself)
just to fit the spaces you left for me.

He moves suddenly, circling faster, words spilling.

HIM (bursting): I could not hold you. Don’t you see?
(shouting now)
I could not even hold myself.

He slams both hands on the back of the chair. The sound echoes. He stays bent forward, shaking.

Silence.

HER (after a pause, steady but pained): Then why take me at all?
(beat)
Why let me believe? In this. In us?

Silence. He lifts his head, but does not answer.

HER (rising anger): You made me weightless.
(beat)
You called it love.
(beat, louder)
You said it was love.

She tips her chair over. The crash fills the space.

HIM (explodes, raw): It was love.
(beat, quieter, breaking)
It always was love. It still is.

Silence. Both stand heaving, facing one another across the fallen chairs.

They step forward, almost colliding. Their faces inches apart. Neither touches. Their breath fills the space.

Unbearable tension.

The light slowly dims until blackout.

Stage: The two chairs are drawn closer now, side by side, almost touching. Dim light. The floor still bears the marks of the last act: one chair on its side, the other shoved off-centre. Slowly, they right the chairs, then sit.

They sit. Silence. Long.

HIM (suddenly, voice low but firm): I did love you.

The words hang in the stillness. Silence.

HER (quietly): You never said.

HIM: I thought you knew.

HER (dry, almost bitter laugh): Knew?
(beat)
You thought silence could speak for you?

Long silence.

HER (turning slightly toward him): I waited.
(beat)
For words.
(beat)
For proof.

He shifts uncomfortably, eyes fixed on the floor.

HER (sharp, controlled): You gave me silence and called it love.

Silence.

HIM (quietly, defensive): Love is easy. Speaking…
(he falters)
Speaking is not.

Silence.

HER: So you left me guessing.

HIM (softly, almost to himself): I thought you felt it anyway. You know me.

HER (cold): Feeling and knowing are not the same.

They sit in silence with their shoulders almost brushing, close but never touching. She leans toward him, slowly. Their faces hover near, almost a kiss, almost a crossing. For a breath, the space between them disappears. He doesn’t move. She pulls back with a faint, broken laugh.

HER (whisper, almost breaking): This is not enough.

Silence. The two chairs stand side by side, closer than ever, yet the distance between them feels infinite.

Blackout.

Stage: The two chairs stand centre stage, closer now but still apart. Dim light. A heavy air of anticipation.

They rise slowly, almost in unison. Both move behind their chairs, gripping the backrests like anchors. Their knuckles whiten. They lean forward slightly, breath audible.

HER (low, controlled): Why hide me.

Silence. He shifts his grip. His chair creaks under the pressure. He opens his mouth, closes it.

HER (sharper): Why.

Silence. He lowers his gaze, won’t meet her eyes.

HER (exploding, shouting): TELL ME! Make it make sense.

She slams her chair forward. It scrapes harshly across the floor, echoing. Silence follows, heavy and jagged.

HIM (snapping back, voice breaking): You don’t know what it cost me.

HER (mocking, furious): What it cost you?
(beat)
Are you serious?

She circles her chair like a predator, hands trailing along the backrest.

HER (softer, bitter): I was not a shadow. I had a face. I had a voice.
(beat)
And you made me invisible.

HIM (suddenly shouting): I saved you!

The words burst out. He shoves his chair to the side, violently. It falls with a crash. Silence. They both freeze, chests heaving.

HER (after a long pause, whispering): Saved me from what?

He doesn’t answer.

HER (stronger): Look at me.

He slowly raises his head. Their eyes meet. The first sustained look between them. They hold it. Too long. The tension unbearable.

HIM (voice cracking, almost pleading): I kept you in the dark… so they couldn’t touch you. To protect you.

HER (quiet, steady, devastating): You kept me in the dark for too long.
(beat)
And now I can’t see myself.

Silence. She lets go of her chair. It tips onto its side with a hollow sound. She stands empty-handed.

HER (whisper): You turned me into air. Why? For whom?

Silence stretches. Their breathing is all that remains.

Blackout.

Stage: The same chairs. They are moved a little closer than before, not quite side by side. Dim light. Shadows stretch long.

They sit. Their bodies are angled away from one another. Silence.

Her foot begins to tap. Slowly. A single beat.
He fidgets with his hand, then unconsciously begins tapping his foot as well.

The rhythm is uneven at first, then slowly aligns. Two beats, in time. Silence. Only the sound of feet.

HER (softly): You gave me fragments.

Long pause. Feet keep tapping.

HER: A word here.
(beat)
A touch there.
(beat)
Never whole.

Silence. Their feet stop suddenly, as if caught.

HIM (low): I gave what I could. What was left of me.

HER (quick, cutting): Pieces. Only pieces.

Silence.

HER (rising, pacing around her chair):
One smile, then gone.
One promise, broken.
One night… nothing after.

She circles the chair slowly, her hand brushing the wood each time.

HER (to herself, almost chanting):
Nothing was real.
You left me with shards.

HIM (barely audible): I never knew which pieces to give. They are all ugly.

She stops pacing. Looks at him. Long silence.

HER (cold): All of them. I wanted all of them. All of you.

Silence. She sits again, but angles her chair an inch closer to his. He notices, shifts uncomfortably, but doesn’t move his own chair away.

HER (leaning forward): Do you hear me still, when the silence is loud?

Silence.

HIM (whisper, almost a confession): Every night. All the time.

Her head drops slightly, as if in both relief and exhaustion. Long silence. The rhythm of tapping returns, softer this time, hesitant. Their feet find each other again, two beats matching in the dark. They both stop at the same moment. The quiet is total.

Blackout.

Stage: The same two chairs. Dim light. A little closer than before, but still a gap.

They sit. Silence. Neither looks at the other.

She stares at him, unblinking. He looks down, fidgets with his fingers, avoids her gaze.

Her breathing grows louder, measured. He scratches his knee nervously. Long silence.

HER (suddenly, cutting): You vanished.

Silence. He shifts, but says nothing.

HER (louder): Again and again.

He swallows, adjusts his chair slightly, but still avoids her eyes.

HER (standing, voice sharp): You vanished!

Her voice echoes in the silence. She folds her arms tightly across her chest, pacing a few steps. She stops. A pause. Then, lower:

HER: You always vanish… You are never there.

Silence. He finally looks up for the first time, meets her eyes briefly, then looks down again.

HER (accusing): Even when you were here…
(beat)
…you were already gone.

He opens his mouth as if to speak, closes it. Silence stretches.

HER (moving closer, intense): Say something.
(beat)
Anything.

HIM (very quietly, almost inaudible): I was still there. I am.

Silence. She laughs bitterly, a dry, humourless sound that hangs in the air.

HER (mocking his quiet tone): “I was still there.”
(beat)
You call this “there”?

(she gestures at the empty space between them)

You call this… being there?

He rises half out of his chair, as if to speak, then sits again, head in hands. Silence.

HER (a whisper now, but fierce): You were nowhere.
(beat)
And you left me in the empty.

Long silence. She stands still, arms crossed, breathing hard. He sits motionless, staring at the floor. The distance between them is palpable, they are an ocean apart.

Blackout.