-POV Derby
The silence in the apartment felt different now.
Not the heavy, charged kind that had wrapped around us in the pantry yesterday, nor the warm, lazy quiet of the morning when I had let myself laugh in Jordan’s arms like the world wasn’t waiting to tear us apart. This silence was heavier, more aware, like both of us knew we had crossed a line we could never uncross. I sat on the edge of the couch, knees drawn up, wearing nothing but one of Jordan’s shirts that still carried his scent. He was in the kitchen area, making coffee with slow, deliberate movements, his back to me, the morning light tracing the lines of his shoulders through his unbuttoned shirt.
I watched him, heart beating too hard, and felt the words rising again — the ones I had almost said yesterday, the ones I ha
