She’s standing now, just inside the doorway, her expression unreadable.
We both let the silence stretch, as if testing who will break first.
“It’s been a while,” she finally says, her voice low, almost an afterthought.
I nod, acknowledging the obvious, trying to keep my own tone neutral.
“Yeah, it has.”
The room seems to shrink around us, the air thick with tension.
I feel the familiar pull of old grievances, the magnetic tug of past arguments and unresolved history.
Her eyes scan the room, taking in the details—my details, the life I’ve built here.
“You’ve made it nice,” she comments, and I can’t tell if it’s sincere or mocking.
I choose to take it at face value.
