It just felt like something we’d carry together.
That thought lingered with me through the morning Adrian and I finally flew home. The city spread itself beneath us in a blur of lights and motion as the plane descended, but I barely looked out the window. I was still holding on to that sense of togetherness, like it was a fragile thread I didn’t dare drop.
By the time we walked through our front door, the apartment smelled faintly of lavender from the diffuser Natalie insisted on before she left for the dorms. Her absence pressed against the walls—this space had grown quieter since she moved—but it also gave me room to breathe.
Adrian set our bags down with the casual efficiency of someone who never quite stopped moving. He glanced toward me. “Tea?”
I nodded, dropping onto the sofa. “P
