I sit at the dinner table.
The chair feels foreign beneath me—though I've sat here a hundred times before. Something has shifted. The air is different. Thicker. Charged with something I can't name.
Silas stands in the kitchen, warming the dinner again. I watch his movements—deliberate, careful, like each gesture matters. His eyes stay on his work, catching the soft golden light from the pendant lamp above the island.
He looks like he's holding something precious. Something worth protecting. A soft smile rests on his lips.
Gentle.
Unshaken.
The warmth of the food spreads through the room—not just heat, but something deeper. Something that settles in the chest and makes itself at home.
Steam rises from the pot, curling toward the ceiling like something released. The scent wraps around me—herbs I can't name, spices unfamiliar to me.
I look away.
Seriously.
Why did I agree to this?
I wanted to drink until my mind went blank. To sleep. To forget everything.
