The storm outside had calmed, but inside the house, inside their marriage, something else had just begun—something quieter, deeper, and far more dangerous than raised voices or bruised pride. It was the stillness that follows two people who have finally told each other the truths they spent months avoiding. A stillness that wasn’t cold, or tense, or bitter—but warm in a way that felt almost fragile.
Marnie lay awake long after Michael slipped into a slow, steady sleep beside her. His arm—heavy, warm, impossibly comforting—rested across her waist. His fingers didn’t grip her, didn’t hold possessively; they simply rested, as if he was reminding himself she was still there.
She brushed the back of her knuckles lightly against his forearm. Even asleep, he exhaled in that quiet, low way he di
