The kitchen was quiet, an almost oppressive silence hanging in the air between us. I sat at the old wooden table, tracing the patterns of its grain with my finger. Across from me, she was staring out the window, her eyes distant and lost.
“I don’t know how to say this, but…”
Her voice was barely above a whisper, yet it cut through the silence like a knife.
“What do you mean?”
The words came out more sharply than I intended, but the fear of what she might say was like a clawing in my chest.
“It’s just… things have changed.”
I watched her, searching for any sign that might tell me what was coming next, but her face was a mask I couldn’t read.
“We can’t keep…”
The words trailed off, leaving a void that seemed to swallow the room whole.
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