I sit on the edge of the bed, my fingers drumming a restless rhythm against the sheets, my gaze drifting across the room without settling on anything.
The silence of the room presses in on me—thick, heavy. It's only been half an hour since Silas left for the office, and already the emptiness is unbearable. The space beside me feels cold without him, the absence of his warmth a constant, nagging ache.
What am I supposed to do with myself?
I glance at my phone lying beside me on the duvet. Its dark screen stares back at me.
Should I call him?
My fingers twitch toward it, then stop.
No. I'm the one who pushed him to go to the office. He's always so clingy—always hovering, always watching, always touching. It's better to have some space.
I push myself off the bed, sliding my feet into my slippers.
I shake my head, pulling myself back from the spiral of my own thoughts.
