The next morning came with routine.
But the silence between them had changed.
It wasn’t awkward anymore.
It was… distant.
Controlled.
Elara moved through the house calmly, preparing breakfast for herself—not out of obligation, but habit.
Aaron entered midway, watching her for a second longer than necessary.
“You didn’t make mine,” he said.
Elara didn’t look up. “You didn’t ask.”
A pause.
That wasn’t how this used to go.
Aaron leaned slightly against the counter. “You usually do.”
Elara finally glanced at him.
“I used to do a lot of things.”
Simple.
But it landed.
⸻
Elsewhere—
Elena sat in her apartment, scrolling slowly.
Photos from Santorini were everywhere.
The wedding.
The beach.
The parties.
And then—
Elara.
Smiling.
Confident.
Glowing.
Elena’s jaw tightened
