The clock ticked past midnight before the house finally went still.
No shouting, no movement, just silence the kind that fills every corner and suffocates what’s left of peace.
Liam hadn’t left the dining room.
The plates were still there, cold, untouched, half-finished.
He sat with his elbows on the table, staring at nothing, trying to replay what just happened as if running it through again might make sense of it.
But it didn’t.
Every version ended the same: her walking away, his voice breaking, the door slamming behind her.
He dragged a hand down his face and leaned back in the chair.
He could still hear her voice.
You always mean to tell me things, Liam. You just never do.
She wasn’t wrong. That was what hurt most.
He’d spent so much of his life trying to keep everything und
