(Esther’s Point of View)
The cold from the doorway wrapped around me, a physical thing, as I stood there, paralyzed, my pulse hammering. I needed to say something, anything, but my voice was a prisoner. Matthew faced away, his hands white-knuckled on the counter, his shoulders rigid with the aftermath of it all.
I wanted to touch him. To draw him near, to offer solace, but I was at a loss.
He seemed to be drifting, retreating deeper into his own world with each heartbeat. I'd already shared so much, yet I wondered how much more I had left to give.
"Matthew?" My voice, a whisper against the stillness, went unanswered. He didn't budge, didn't even glance back. His silence was heavy, almost oppressive.
I found myself drawn nearer, my feet betraying me. The air between us felt impossibly
