The silence that followed breakfast wasn’t awkward—it was peaceful, like the quiet that came after a long, devastating storm. The kind of silence that didn’t demand to be filled. Alec sat across from me, chewing slowly, eyes occasionally flicking in my direction. I caught him once, and he looked away, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
When we both finished eating, he stood and gathered the plates, heading toward the sink. I followed without thinking, scooping up the cups and setting them beside him before switching on the tap.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he asks, his voice low but with a familiar gruffness that held no real irritation—only disbelief.
I turn to find him staring at me, a deep crease between his brows. I am confused because it was obvious wha
