Seven days.
That was how long Noah had left before leaving for his mother's house.
Seven days.
Ava hated the number.
It followed her everywhere.
Every morning she woke up and counted.
Every night she went to sleep and counted again.
Six days.
Five days.
Four.
The countdown felt cruel.
Because time suddenly seemed determined to move faster.
The strange thing was that neither of them talked about it much.
Not directly.
The topic hovered constantly between them.
Unspoken.
Impossible to ignore.
Yet neither seemed brave enough to discuss it.
Because talking about it would make it real.
And reality was already difficult enough.
Instead, they spent more time together.
Not intentionally.
At least that was what they both claimed.
The truth was obvious.
Every moment suddenly
