Jennifer’s POV
The silence lingered long after he was gone.
It wasn’t just the absence of his footsteps or the soft creak of the door closing behind him. It was heavier, almost alive, pressing in on the walls of the little cottage, stretching into the corners like a shadow that refused to be swept away.
I stood in the middle of the small living room for what felt like minutes, maybe longer, staring at the empty chair where he had sat the night before. The blanket I had given him was folded neatly over the armrest, untouched as if he hadn’t even let himself rest properly. He hadn’t wanted to leave a trace, and yet, somehow, his presence still clung to the air.
The note he’d left on the table—one word, thanks—was short enough to sting.
I hated the way my chest warmed at seeing it, as if
