Deaf Girl Media

INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT

A spacious bedroom with a California king bed. The room is tastefully decorated - a blend of Stella's minimalist style and Minnie's artistic touches. A nightstand on Minnie's side holds camera equipment. Stella's nightstand has a sleek lamp and a perfectly aligned notebook.

STELLA (39) lies on the far edge of the bed, back turned to the center, scrolling through her phone. Her posture is rigid, controlled. MINNIE (45) lies on the opposite side, equally distant, staring at the ceiling. The large empty space between them speaks volumes.

STELLA
(without turning, voice even)
I don't understand why we're having this conversation at 11:47 PM.

Stella continues scrolling through spreadsheets on her phone.

STELLA (CONT'D)
The Mendoza account needs these projections by morning.

MINNIE
(closing her eyes, voice slightly shaky)
It's our eighteen-month anniversary, Stella. Half-celebrations were your idea, remember?

Minnie turns to look at Stella's back.

MINNIE (CONT'D)
But when I came home—

STELLA
(cutting in, still not turning)
Upset about work. Which I understand. But getting emotional doesn't solve problems.

MINNIE
(sitting up slightly)
There it is again. "Getting emotional." Like my feelings are some kind of inefficiency in your system.

Stella finally sets her phone down but doesn't turn.

STELLA
I didn't say that.

MINNIE
You said, and I quote, "Getting emotional at the slightest comment is not productive."

Minnie's voice breaks slightly.

MINNIE (CONT'D)
Do you have any idea what I saw today? A five-year-old girl with no hair asking me to take her picture so she could "remember being brave." Her mother told me they don't expect her to see Christmas.

A heavy silence fills the room. The faint sounds of the city filter through the window.

MINNIE (CONT'D)
(softer now)
I needed you today. Not solutions. Not productivity. Just... you.

Stella's fingers tighten around her phone. We see her face in profile, struggling with how to respond.

STELLA
(carefully measured)
I'm sorry the hospital event was difficult. But when you came home crying, I thought you wanted help fixing it.

MINNIE
Not everything broken needs fixing, Stella. Sometimes things just hurt, and that's okay.

Stella finally turns, facing Minnie across the expanse of bed. For the first time, we see vulnerability in her usually composed expression.

STELLA
(a rare admission)
I don't know how to do that. When something's wrong, I fix it. That's... that's my way of showing I care.

Minnie softens, recognizing what this admission costs Stella.

MINNIE
I know. And that's your love language—solving, doing, fixing. Acts of service.

Minnie extends her hand into the empty space between them.

MINNIE (CONT'D)
But sometimes, when my heart is breaking for a child who might not see next spring, I don't need fixing. I need this.

She wiggles her fingers, inviting connection.

STELLA
(looking at Minnie's hand with uncertainty)
How do I know the difference? Between when you need solutions and when you need... this?

MINNIE
You ask. Just like I need to ask when you need space to process. We're different, but that doesn't make either of us wrong.

Stella nods once, decisive.

STELLA
I can implement that protocol.

Minnie laughs, genuine and warm.

MINNIE
Only you would call it a protocol.

She tugs gently on Stella's hand.

MINNIE (CONT'D)
Now come here. It's still our anniversary.

Stella hesitates, then moves across the bed's expanse. As they meet in the middle:

STELLA
(softly, against Minnie's hair)
I'm sorry about the children.

MINNIE
I know. I know you are.

They hold each other in silence for a moment. Stella's hand slowly moves to trace the curve of Minnie's face.

STELLA
(with unexpected tenderness)
I may not always understand your emotions, but I...

She struggles to find the right words.

MINNIE
(with a small smile)
You don't have to say it. Show me.

Their eyes lock. Stella's usual analytical gaze transforms into something hungrier, more primal. Minnie's breath catches.

STELLA
(voice dropping lower)
That I can do.

Stella's fingers trail down Minnie's neck to her collarbone, deliberate and precise. Minnie shivers visibly.

MINNIE
(breathless)
For someone who claims to not understand feelings, you certainly know how to...

Stella silences her with a kiss - not gentle but claiming. When they part:

STELLA
(with the hint of a smile)
I analyze data, remember? And after eighteen months, I have plenty of data on what makes you...

She whispers something in Minnie's ear that we don't hear. Minnie's eyes widen, then darken with desire.

MINNIE
Well then, analyst. Show me your findings.

Stella reaches over and turns off the lamp. In the sudden darkness, we hear soft laughter that quickly turns to something more urgent.

FADE TO BLACK.

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