The bag sat on the counter in the pale morning light, its pharmacy logo a whisper of something unspoken. Olivia drifted into the kitchen—bare feet, an oversized blue shirt slipping past her wrists—and paused at her first checkpoint: the bag. She acknowledged it without looking, then moved to the coffee maker. Every step was measured, designed to keep the apartment asleep.
She pressed the brew button. The machine hissed and dripped, a soft metronome in the dense quiet. Olivia folded her arms and stared at the empty tile backsplash. Behind her, Adrian’s presence gathered at the pantry’s edge like a held breath.
She didn’t turn. Instead she filled a mug, sipped—so hot she blinked once—and set it down beside the bag, thumb tracing its rim. Then she reached for a stack of unopened mail on the
