The storm outside still ruled the world, but inside the cabin, time felt suspended—thick, unmoving, heavy with the fallout of the night before.
Jeremiah stood in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up once again, hands busy with the quiet ritual of cooking. It was past noon now. He knew because he had checked the old wall clock twice, then stopped looking altogether. The ticking only reminded him how long it had been since Michelle retreated into the guest room and closed the door behind her.
She hadn’t come out.
Not for breakfast.
Not for coffee.
Not even to pace the hallway the way she sometimes did when her thoughts got too loud.
He cracked another egg into the bowl a little harder than necessary. The shell split unevenly, yolk sloshing dangerously close to the rim. He steadied his hands,
