The heater’s hum seemed louder, filling the space between us.
I searched his face, hoping for a flicker of recognition.
But he was gone already, in some way I couldn’t reach.
The kitchen felt foreign, unfamiliar, as if it were no longer mine.
“What about everything we’ve built here?”
He shook his head, dismissing my words.
“Times change,” he said, as if that explained everything.
My fingers tightened around the cup, needing something to hold onto.
It was the only thing I felt I had left.
The memory of his childhood laughter echoed faintly in my mind.
