Aira had always believed that silence was easier than conflict.
But she was starting to realize something else.
Silence could also be deliberate.
Lucien hadn’t called in three days.
Not after New York.
Not after the brief, careful messages about “safe travels.”
Not after the single “We should talk.”
She hadn’t replied to that one.
Not because she didn’t see it.
Because she did.
She just wasn’t ready to reopen doors she had nailed shut.
California moved on without him.
That was the strange part.
The sun still rose too early.
Traffic still built up around eight.
Her son still insisted on wearing mismatched socks to preschool because “they think better separately.”
Life didn’t pause for unresolved love.
Adrian had started coming by less frequently this week.
Not dramatically
