ALEX.
By the third day, the silence now felt more deliberate than accidental.
I lay awake that morning staring at the ceiling, counting the seconds between Niko’s movements in the house. I knew his schedule now—not because he told me, but because I listened to the way his door opened at dawn, the muted sound of his footsteps heading toward the twins’ rooms, the low murmur of his voice as he spoke to them, gentle and warm in a way that made my chest ache.
That warmth never reached me anymore.
I rolled onto my side and hugged my pillow, a tight knot forming in my stomach. Three days. Three days of clipped answers, of him avoiding my eyes, of conversations that never quite happened. Three days of feeling like a guest in a place that had once felt like home.
Maybe I imagined it all, I th
