The house felt heavier than ever that morning, as though the walls themselves had soaked up every scream swallowed, every night of silence, every promise that had crumbled between the cracks in the floorboards. Dust motes floated through the still air, catching the dull morning light like silent ghosts of what had once been love… or what had tried to be.
Alina sat quietly on the edge of the chaise lounge, the same velvet piece of furniture that had, just hours before, witnessed us crossing a threshold we could never return from. She was wrapped in my shirt, her legs folded under her, bare skin brushing against the fabric in a way that made my heart ache not with lust, but with awe. Her hair was tousled from sleep and tears, her cheeks puffy, her lips soft and pink from all the ways I’d ki
