Before He Could Answer
The store smelled faintly of dust and old cardboard when I pushed the door open that morning. For a moment, I just stood there, keys still clutched in my hand, staring at the familiar aisles Jacob had walked a thousand times. His presence lingered in the quiet hum of the refrigerators, in the slight tilt of the candy rack he never bothered to fix. "I'll take care of it," I whispered, though the words felt too small for a promise that big. Alec moved past me, gentle but steady, flipping the sign on the door from Closed to Open. The soft click echoed louder than it should have. "First step," he said, offering me a reassuring glance before heading towards the counter. "We'll figure out the rest together." Days blurred into a rhythm I didn't realize I needed. The morning rush, the midday
- Writer
