The evening settled into the apartment quietly, the kind of quiet that didn’t feel empty but wasn’t fully comfortable either. The rain from last night had left the city damp and reflective, lights stretching across wet roads like they were trying to hold onto something. Asher poured himself a drink at the counter while I curled up on the couch, watching him more than the muted television in front of me.
There was something different about him today.
Not distant. Not cold. Just… reflective. Like his thoughts were heavier than usual, like something had been nudged loose and refused to go back where it belonged.
“You look like you’re about to say something and then decide not to,” I said lightly.
He smiled faintly, setting the glass down. “Do I?”
“Yes. You’ve done it three times already.
