დ Elara დ
There is a kind of quiet that feels like drowning. Not the gentle hush of sunrise over the vineyard, or the soft echo in the barrel room before the day’s work starts, but a heavy, bruised silence that pushes against your skin and fills your mouth with the taste of old fears. I lived in that silence for days after the wedding. I did not answer my phone. I did not respond to Aria’s gentle texts or the dozens of missed calls that showed up from numbers I did not recognize. I left every unanswered question in my inbox, and I let the town’s curiosity swirl at the edges of my property as I refused to step into the swirl of gossip that followed me everywhere. Instead, I worked. I stacked crates. I pruned vines until my fingers went raw. I inventoried every barrel in the cellar, double-
