The cabin stayed quiet the next day, as if the house itself had decided to hold its breath. No one suggested games, no one proposed a walk, no one turned up the music to drown the silence. Breakfast was eaten in shifts—some at the table, some carrying plates to other rooms. Conversations were short, careful, like people testing thin ice.
I moved through the morning like a ghost in my own story. I helped Dirk peel potatoes for lunch, stood beside Ian while he read emails at the dining table, let Chase and Isaac pull me into a half-hearted foosball game that ended after three points because no one could concentrate. Every interaction felt edged with awareness. We were all trying not to step on the new truth we’d named the night before.
By mid-afternoon the sky had gone flat gray and snow b
