Fallon
The house felt too big without him.
Which was ridiculous.
Reid and I barely spent time together when he was home, moving around each other like polite strangers. Separate rooms, separate lives. We’d mastered the art of coexistence — the kind where you shared space but not warmth. The kind where silence was easier than words.
But now that he was gone —
I felt the absence everywhere.
It was in the cool, empty side of the bed in his bedroom that hadn’t been touched in days. In the faint, lingering scent of his cologne on the jacket he’d left draped over the chair. In the echo of my own footsteps on the marble floors, where his used to fall in rhythm beside mine even when we were fighting — as usual.
The silence wasn’t peaceful. It was deafening.
I told myself not to care. But t
