The Night That Didn’t End
The days after New Year did not pass. They lingered. They stretched into each other until morning and night lost their meaning, until time itself felt thick and unmoving, pressing down on Maya’s chest like something determined to suffocate her slowly. She did not count the days. She felt them. In the heaviness of her limbs when she tried to get up and couldn’t. In the way her chest tightened before she even opened her eyes. In the silence that filled the condo so completely it began to sound alive—breathing, waiting, watching. Calvin did not call. He did not text. He did not come home. And the absence of him—so quiet, so deliberate—hurt more than anything he had said that night. Because words could be fought. Words could be explained. Words could be taken back. But silence…
- Writer
