Moana's apartment felt quieter than usual.
Moana sat on the edge of the bed, clutching a pillow like a child who had lost her grip. It had been three days since she left the hospital, but the smell of antiseptic still seemed to cling to her skin. Every time she closed her eyes, what she saw was no longer the future—but an empty, white, and silent space.
That loss hadn't gone away. It had simply settled in. Moana had started snapping at people for no apparent reason.
"Damn it! Why did I have a miscarriage?!" She yanked at her own hair.
The apartment door suddenly opened slowly. Sean entered without making a sound. His suit was neat; his face looked tired in an elegant way—a tiredness he'd feigned so he'd appear sad in front of his girlfriend.
Moana jumped to her feet.
"Why are you just getting home now, Sean?" she asked quickly. Too quickly. As if afraid Sean would disappear again if she was too slow to greet him.
Sean nodded. "I had a meeting."
