He didn't try to break the silence.
That was his only response: observation. Not intervention.
His lack of interference made it easier to maintain the distance. Without him pushing back, there was nothing to spark a reaction from me. I existed in a state of perfect, hollow compliance.
Days passed like that. Structured. Controlled. Empty in a way that didn’t disrupt the functioning of the house but made the soul feel like it was hibernating.
And eventually, even the memory of what it had been before started to fade. The memory of the anger, the sharp questions, the frantic heartbeat when he stood too close. All of it began to wash away, replaced by a gray, steady stillness.
The tension. The questions. The awareness. All of it was gone.
Replaced by something quieter. Something that did
