The kitchen hummed with silence. Not the ordinary kind, but the kind that scraped across nerves, too loud in its emptiness.
Andrea’s back pressed against the counter, her blouse askew, lips swollen from Daniel’s kiss. His chest heaved against hers, the rhythm of his breath uneven.
For a long moment, neither moved.
Michael’s forehead rested against hers, his palm still cupping her jaw as if letting go would undo something vital. His voice broke the silence first, rough and guttural. “Andrea…”
Her name in his mouth sent a shiver down her spine. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to gather the pieces of herself that had scattered the second his mouth touched hers.
“We can’t,” Andrea whispered, the words trembling, fragile.
Michael’s jaw flexed. His thumb brushed against her cheek before
