The days pass, each one blending into the next.
But tonight feels different.
There’s a stillness in the air, a pause that hangs between us as I enter the kitchen.
She’s already begun the ritual, the garlic smoke curling through the room.
“I’ve been thinking,” I start, unsure of where the conversation will lead.
She pauses, her hands briefly stilling, before resuming.
“About what?” she asks, her voice soft but steady.
“About us. About what comes next,” I reply, meeting her gaze.
There’s a quiet understanding in her eyes, a recognition of the choices we both face.
“We’ll figure it out,” she says after a moment, her voice carrying an assurance that I cling to.
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