The room is thick—not just with Moon's amber wood pheromones, but with something else.
Something heavier.
The silence between the three of us presses against my skin, warm and suffocating, and I don't know what to do with it. Should I break it? Should I let it stretch? Maybe staying quiet is better. Maybe silence is safer than whatever words might tumble out if I open my mouth.
Moon's face is unreadable. His eyes are fixed on the lilies on the bedside table—white and pale, the ones Deniz brought. He hasn't looked at Deniz since the greeting that went unanswered. He hasn't said a word.
His hands rest on the blanket, still, his fingers curled slightly, as if holding onto something that isn't there anymore.
Deniz sits beside me on the couch, close enough that his shoulder brushes mine. I can feel his warmth through the fabric of his shirt, the familiar weight of his presence.
