Summary:

"I told him to pick up milk," Shane sobbed, the sound hysterical and broken. "That’s the last thing I said to him. ‘Pick up some milk on the way home.’ I didn't say I loved him. I didn't say stay. I didn't even look him in the eye because I was frustrated with the loss. I just told him to buy fucking milk." Ilya Rozanov has always been a master of control. Of the puck, of the media, of his own jagged edges. But lately, the edges have started to blur. The "Czar" is retreating, leaving behind a house that looks like a museum and a husband who is starting to feel like a stranger. When the last of Ilya's mess is cleared away and his ring is left behind like a final period at the end of a sentence, Shane has to face the terrifying truth: Ilya doesn't think he’s leaving a hole behind, he thinks he’s cleaning one up. Kinda compliant to The Long Game, but before Ilya talks about his depression with Shane, or goes to seek help.