The silence after she left was louder than any argument we ever had.
William sat alone in the living room, the lights still on even though dawn was already pressing itself through the windows. The air smelled like her faint traces of her perfume clinging stubbornly to the couch, to the curtains, to his skin. It was cruel how memories lingered longer than people.
He dragged a hand down his face, exhaustion heavy in his bones.
This is what you chose, a voice inside him whispered. This is the price.
He had told himself a hundred excuses that night.
That he was lonely.
That he was drunk.
That it didn’t mean anything.
But the truth the one he avoided like a blade to the throat—was simple.
He had been weak.
The image of Elisse standing by the door replayed in his mind with brutal clari
