Caspian had been walking on thin ice with Laura for days—every glance, every half-smile, every unfinished sentence threatening to crack the surface beneath his feet. And tonight, the ice felt thinner than ever.
The Lamplighter was humming with its usual rhythm—cutlery clinking, low laughter spilling from booth to booth, orders being called and filled with seamless coordination.
But between him and Laura, the air was still. Too still.
She moved around him like he wasn’t there. Not in anger, not in haste—just quiet distance. Deliberate avoidance. The kind that didn’t scream, but cut more deeply because of how silent it was. She hadn’t looked at him in hours. Not really.
Caspian wiped down the edge of the service counter, pretending not to watch her as she grabbed a bottle of pinot from t
