The words hang in the air, a challenge or perhaps a plea.
I look at her, searching for something, anything, that might make this make sense.
All I find are the same tired excuses.
Her eyes, once so familiar, now seem like a stranger’s.
There’s a distance in them, like a barrier I can’t cross.
It’s strange how time can alter someone you thought you knew so well.
She shifts slightly, her weight moving from one foot to the other, a small gesture that betrays her unease.
I wonder if she’s nervous or just impatient.
Maybe both.
“I’m here now,” she adds, as if that explains everything.
But it doesn’t.
Being here doesn’t erase the years of absence.
It doesn’t fill the void she left behind.
“And?” I ask, my voice barely more than a whisper.
It’s all I can manage.
She hesitates, her mouth opening and then closing again.
There’s a pause, a moment where anything might have been said.
But she chooses silence.
And in that silence, I see everything.
Read more on the next page ⬇️⬇️⬇️
