Sixty Nine

Daisy had never imagined she’d get used to the silence.

Not like this.

The silence of Ezekiel’s home was soft, like a hush that blanketed everything in peace instead of fear. It wasn’t the kind of quiet that made her skin crawl or her lungs tighten. There were no ticking clocks counting down to another outburst, no creaking floors that betrayed someone approaching too quickly, too angrily. There were no sharp voices through walls, no slamming doors, no whispers behind her back.

Just stillness.

The rustle of wind slipping through the trees outside the windows. The gentle creak of the old house settling into its bones. The occasional chirp of a bird brave enough to perch near the sill. That was it.

And Ezekiel.

It was always Ezekiel.

Somehow he had managed to weave his way into her life.

He had a way of being present without taking up space, of speaking without making her flinch. His presence didn’t demand anything. He didn’t fill the air with meaningless chatter to try and “fix” her. H