Raymond's POV
Grief really changes the sound of a house. It was just dead silent, nobody was thier self , everyone was just a walking dead in the house.
The morning after the memorial, the walls didn’t echo like they used to. The creaks in the floorboards felt heavier. Even the birds outside seemed to chirp more gently, as if they, too, knew not to disturb the silence.
I stood in the kitchen with my hands braced on the counter, watching the kettle steam without reaching for it. I wasn't sure what I needed more—tea or stillness. The quiet wrapped around me like a second skin.
Naomi came in quietly, wrapped in one of my shirts, hair still damp from her shower. Her hand found mine. She didn’t speak. Always remaining calm despite any conditions.
She didn’t need to, We’d both loved him. H
