MasukAva closed the bedroom door behind her with a quiet push, the latch settling into place without sound. The house had already gone still for the night, but the silence here carried a different weight, one that pressed against her the moment she stepped further in.She did not turn on the main light. Only the bedside lamp.A soft glow spread across the room, catching the edges of unfamiliar things she had not touched in the room. The wardrobe. The chair near the window. The neatly made bed she had not slept in since she arrived.For a moment, she stood there, her hand still resting on the door as though she had not fully decided to enter.Then she moved.Her phone lay on the bedside table where she had left it earlier, screen dark, untouched. She picked it up, her fingers hovering briefly before pressing the power button.The screen lit up. Notifications filled it.Missed calls. Messages. The same name repeated over and over again.Her gaze rested on it longer than she intended.The fir
Matthew stared at her, the words not settling, not making sense in the space they had been placed.“With you?” he repeated slowly. “What are you saying, Sophie?”Her hand tightened slightly around the strap of her bag before relaxing again.“I am saying that you should stop pretending this is not already complicated enough,” she said. “Ava is gone. She made her decision.”“And you think that makes this easier?” Matthew asked, disbelief threading through his voice.“I think it makes it clearer.”He shook his head, stepping back slightly. “No.”Sophie’s gaze did not waver. “I am carrying your child.”Matthew’s expression did not change the way she expected.His hand dragged slowly across his face, then dropped.“We already talked about this,” he said, his voice lower now, steadier than it had been minutes ago.Sophie watched him closely. “Then act like it matters.”His jaw flexed. “It does.”“No,” she replied, stepping closer, her eyes fixed on him. “It complicates your life. That is no
The car rolled into the driveway slower than usual, the tires crunching lightly against the gravel as Matthew guided it to a stop. He did not turn off the engine immediately. His hands remained on the steering wheel, fingers curved around it without pressure, his gaze fixed ahead at the house that looked exactly as it always had. He exhaled slowly, then reached for the door. The engine died behind him as he stepped out. The air carried a faint stillness, the kind that lingered after something had already happened and left no visible trace. He shut the door, the sound sharper than it should have been in the quiet. Then, footsteps approached and he turned. Sophie was walking up the driveway, her pace quick but controlled, her expression set in a way that told him she had already been thinking too much before she even got there. For a second, neither of them spoke. Then she stopped a few steps away, her eyes moving over him, searching for something specific. “You look worse th
Matthew remained in the driver’s seat long after the conversation with Mr. Martins had ended, his hand still loosely wrapped around his phone, though the screen had gone dark.Outside, movement carried on as though nothing had happened. Cars passed. Voices rose and fell in the distance.His gaze drifted upward, catching his reflection in the rearview mirror.For a moment, he did not recognize the expression staring back at him.His brows drew together slightly, his fingers lifting to his hair, scratching absently at the back of his head before dragging forward, stopping at his temple.“What are you doing?” he muttered, though the question carried no direction.The silence inside the car pressed closer.He looked away from the mirror, his hand dropping slowly before tightening around the phone again.His thumb hovered over Ava’s name and he pressed.The line attempted to connect. The call ended without sound.Matthew’s grip tightened.He tried again, faster this time, as though urgency
Ava had not moved far from where she sat on the edge of the bed. Her hands rested loosely in her lap, fingers tracing absent patterns against the fabric as the quiet settled around her in a way that felt unfamiliar but not entirely unwelcome.The room held its stillness well. The knock came soft but clear.Ava’s head lifted immediately, her shoulders straightening as if her body had been waiting for something to interrupt the silence.“Yes?” she called, already rising.Another knock, slightly firmer this time.She crossed the room and opened the door.A man stood there, tall, composed, his posture easy in a way that suggested familiarity with the house. Behind him, Grace stood a step back, her expression calm, her presence steady as ever.The man smiled. “Here are your suitcases, ma’am.”Ava’s gaze dropped briefly to the luggage beside him before returning to his face.“And you must be Robin?” she asked.“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, the smile lingering, polite without being overdone.Ava
By the time Ava stepped out of the hospital, the sun had already settled into its noon brightness, warm without being harsh, the kind that touched the skin gently but insisted on being noticed.She paused for a second at the entrance. Enough for her body to register the change—the difference between sterile air and the open world, between monitored quiet and something wider.Grace stood beside her, one hand lightly resting near Ava’s elbow.“Take your time,” Grace said, her voice even.Ava let out a soft breath, then nodded.“I’m fine.”The answer came quickly, almost out of habit, though her fingers curled slightly against her palm before relaxing again.Grace didn’t challenge it. She simply adjusted her pace as they walked toward the car, matching Ava’s slower steps without making it obvious.The drive passed in a quiet that didn’t press.Ava sat angled slightly toward the window, her gaze following the movement outside, buildings giving way to quieter roads, noise thinning into som
The car engine went quiet the moment Isabella turned the key.For a second, neither of them moved.The hotel parking lot stretched around them in the warm glow of evening lights. A few other cars sat scattered across the asphalt, their windshields catching the last streaks of sunset.Matthew leaned
Morning light spilled through the thin curtains of the service apartment, pale and quiet, stretching across the wooden floor in long rectangles. The place still carried the faint warmth of the night before—rumpled couch cushions, the soft scent of coffee beginning to rise from the kitchen.Matthew
The bedroom smells faintly of his cologne.It lingers in the fabric of the curtains, in the collar of the shirts she hasn’t moved yet. Ava stands in the middle of the room with a pile of folded laundry in her arms, not sure how long she’s been standing there.The house is quiet. Sophie went to bed
The television is too loud, or maybe the house is just too quiet around it.Sophie sits cross-legged on the rug, half-watching some cooking show, half-scrolling through her own thoughts. The laugh track rises and falls in the background, artificial and bright.Ava is curled into the corner of the c







