Closure is a film about the conversations we never get to have, the ones that linger long after love ends. It’s about the messy space between what we say and what we mean. Between who we were in a relationship... and who we’re trying to become after it falls apart. This story is personal, because I too have lived in the silence of what wasn’t said. I’ve seen how men are often taught to avoid vulnerability, to hide behind humor, or distance, or logic. And I’ve seen how women are expected to carry the emotional labor of a relationship, even after it ends. Closure is the collision of those dynamics. It’s one long, honest, uncomfortable, hilarious, heartwrenching conversation, and it’s overdue. In an age of ghosting, situationships, and talking without really communicating, I wanted to create something raw and human. I wanted to tell a story where a woman demands honesty not just about what went wrong, but about what was real. And I wanted to explore the male side of that too, not as a villain, but as someone who struggles to articulate feelings he was never given permission to fully understand.

This film is a love story, but one that lives in the aftermath. It’s for anyone who’s ever wanted a do-over, or just one more night to say the things they couldn’t. It’s about accountability, emotional growth, and the brutal beauty of finally telling the truth, even when it hurts. Closure is intimate in scale but huge in feeling. With just a few characters and one apartment, it digs deep into how love shifts, fades, and sometimes still lingers after it’s gone. It’s funny, it’s uncomfortable, and it’s honest, because real closure never comes clean. That’s why this story matters to me. Because we all crave answers when a chapter ends. And sometimes, the hardest goodbye is the one where you finally get them.