January was still tough.
Every morning, it came on strong, like winter ripping leaves off trees. The days felt quiet, not empty, but bare. Every choice felt bigger without the holiday buzz.
Evelyn felt it as soon as she woke up.
The house was dark, the sky outside a pale gray. Lying in bed, she stared at the ceiling, feeling a shift inside. Christmas gave her that warm feeling, but January wanted her to be real.
Downstairs, Noah was up.
She saw him at the kitchen table, the same papers as before, some stacked, some with notes. He saw her come in, looking careful but open.
Morning, he said.
Morning.
She poured coffee and sat with him, their knees touched under the table, but neither pulled away.
They emailed, Noah said quietly.
Her chest tightened. Already?
They need an answer by
