The air is thick with unsaid words, the tension almost palpable.
It hangs between us, a barrier neither of us seems willing to cross.
She takes a breath, steadying herself, and I can see the resolve in her eyes.
But even that feels distant, like it’s meant for someone else.
“Can we talk?” she asks, finally breaking the silence.
Her voice is softer now, almost tentative.
As if she fears the answer.
“About what?” I reply, keeping my tone neutral.
She hesitates, searching for the right words.
But there are no right words.
Only the truth, which has been buried for so long.
And I’m not sure if either of us is ready for that.
She steps closer, her shadow merging with mine.
But I stay where I am, the distance between us still there, even in proximity.
“About us,” she says, the words almost a whisper.
It’s a start, I suppose.
But whether it’s enough, I can’t say.
The past looms large, a specter that neither of us can ignore.
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