The apartment was too quiet.
Michael stood in the doorway like a shadow that didn’t belong. The low light spilled in soft halos across Erica’s hardwood floors, touching framed law degrees, shelves lined with heavy texts, and a single crayon drawing stuck to the fridge with a magnet that read “Best Day Ever.”
He shouldn’t have come.
But the silence in his own place was starting to sound like judgment.
Erica stepped into the living room in a sweatshirt and joggers, no makeup, hair loosely tied back. A version of her the public never saw.
He realized, too late, he’d never seen it either.
She looked at him like the moment had teeth.
"You knew," she said softly.
Michael said nothing.
Erica didn’t flinch. “About Leo. About… all of it. The photo. The hoodie. The drawing on my phone—you d
