The silence between us had weight now. It wasn’t sharp or angry—it was something heavier, thicker, the kind of quiet that builds between two people when they both know something is breaking but refuse to be the first to say it aloud.
I stood at the window of our bedroom, watching the courtyard below bathed in moonlight. I felt Adrian before I heard him. His presence was always like that: warm, dense, made to wrap around me even when I didn’t want to be held.
“You’ve been somewhere lately.”
His voice was low behind me, rougher than usual. I didn’t turn. I kept my hands pressed to the cool glass.
“And where’s that?” I asked, the way a woman does when she’s trying not to shatter.
His footsteps crossed the room—deliberate, slow. “Right here beside me. But so far away I can’t even feel you
