Erica

The moonlight spilled through the half-drawn curtains, casting silver lines across Erica’s bedroom floor. She sat curled up on the edge of her bed, the quiet ticking of the clock behind her growing louder with every passing second.

She hadn’t seen Bryan since that strange dinner with Elmer the woman whose presence still lingered like unwanted perfume. He hadn’t knocked on her door. He hadn’t sent her a message. And that silence screamed louder than anything else.

Until now.

A soft knock echoed.

Her heart stopped. “Come in,” she whispered, barely trusting her voice.

The door creaked open and Bryan stepped in, his hands buried deep in his hoodie pockets, his expression unreadable.

Erica stood. “I wasn’t sure if you were ever going to speak to me again.”

He didn’t reply immediately. Instead, he slowly shut the door behind him, locking them into that quiet little universe of theirs, one where past pain and present tension lived in uneasy harmony.

“I thought about not coming,” he said. “I