The muted hum of the heater filled the kitchen, a constant in the quiet around me.
I stood there, feeling the cold seep through the walls.
“I’m getting married tomorrow. I sold your car and your house. Goodbye.”
His words hung in the air, each one colder than the last.
I looked at him, searching for something familiar.
But his eyes were distant, unreadable.
The room seemed smaller, as if the walls were closing in.
“Why?”
The question slipped from my lips, a whisper against the silence.
He shrugged, a casual motion that felt like a punch to the gut.
