The elevator moved up in silence, the cramped space so quiet it was almost stifling.
When it finally reached the second floor, a soft "ding" marked the doors opening. Ethan didn't say a word, but Celeste naturally wheeled him out and into the bedroom.
The door shut behind them with a soft click, not loud but definite.
Ethan's wheelchair came to a stop in front of the dark wooden coffee table. He seemed completely focused on the magazine rack, long fingers slowly skimming through military journals without sparing her a glance.
That kind of silence? It was the worst kind.
Minutes dragged on. Still no reaction from him. Celeste sat stiffly on the opposite sofa, feeling like she was sitting on nails. Finally, she couldn't take it anymore, cleared her throat and forced a casual
