108. Breakfast to Break The Silent (1)

When Ashley opened her eyes, the soft morning light seeped through the narrow crack in the bedroom curtains, casting a warm golden hue that gently bathed the room. The quiet was almost reverent—too quiet, in a way that made the space feel unreal, as if she were floating in a vacuum where time had briefly stopped.

She turned her head slowly to the side.

The pillow on the other side of the bed lay perfectly untouched. The sheets showed no sign of disturbance—no creases or folds where Josh’s body would have pressed into them. There was none of that familiar scent he always left behind, the subtle trace of his presence lingering in the fabric.

Suddenly, an empty ache settled inside her chest.

She sat up carefully, folding her knees close to her chest, letting her mind drift back to the night before. It wasn’t the kiss or any touch that consumed her thoughts, but rather the way Josh had looked at her when she pulled away—his eyes carrying a quiet, restrained disappointment, not anger, but something deeper and more vulnerable.

Ashley exhaled slowly and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She padded softly across the cold floor to the bathroom, washing her face and brushing her teeth with gentle, deliberate movements. Afterward, she pulled on the oversized hoodie hanging behind the door, its fabric soft and familiar against her skin. Barefoot, she stepped out into the hallway, the coolness of the floor grounding her as she made her way downstairs, hoping to find some sign that Josh was there.

From the kitchen came the faint clatter of a spatula against a frying pan, accompanied by the inviting aroma of sizzling sausages and eggs filling the air.

Josh stood in front of the stove, his loose t-shirt slightly wrinkled, hair tousled from sleep, but his face was fresh and bright. When he noticed her at the doorway, a warm, easy smile spread across his lips.

“Morning,” he greeted lightly, as if the events of last night were nothing more than a distant memory.

Ashley hesitated at the threshold, momentarily puzzled by the cheerfulness in his voice. But Josh waved her over, inviting her to come closer.

“Come sit. I made scrambled eggs,” he said, a hint of uncertainty in his tone. “I’m not sure if they’ll be any good, but I tried adding a little cream.”

Ashley returned a small smile and moved toward the tall stool by the kitchen island. She settled herself, folding her hands on the table as she watched Josh move with practiced ease around the kitchen, as if this space had been his for years.

Josh carefully scooped the scrambled eggs from the pan onto a plate, arranging two pieces of sausage beside them. He handed the plate toward Ashley.

“Try it. If it’s terrible, just pretend you like it,” he joked, winking.

Ashley chuckled softly, a laugh tinged with awkwardness but genuine nonetheless. She picked up the fork, speared a small bite of the eggs, and tasted.

“...Soft,” she said honestly, the word slipping out gently.

Josh’s smile widened with satisfaction. He began plating his own breakfast and set the second dish across from her. Then, he opened the fridge and pulled out two bottles of chilled orange juice.

“This is the only hangover cure worth trusting in this city,” he said, settling into his seat. “Unless... you want to make ramen now?”

Ashley laughed again, this time a little freer.

“Ramen for breakfast?” she teased, amused.

Josh shrugged playfully. “Why not? You’re Korean, right? Isn’t ramen the universal hangover breakfast?”

Ashley rolled her eyes but smiled as she took a sip of the orange juice. Quietly, she appreciated how Josh was effortlessly easing the tension between them. No matter how complicated her feelings were, Josh had this uncanny ability to make her feel comfortable—or at least, to not feel guilty.

They ate in a peaceful silence that wasn’t awkward. Josh tossed in the occasional joke about the sausage being too salty or the eggs “half-heartedly cooked” because he was half asleep. Ashley responded with subtle smiles and soft nods, savoring the small moments.

Eventually, she found the courage to speak.

“Josh...” she began hesitantly.

He paused mid-bite, his eyes locking onto hers, attentive and patient.

“I just... want to apologize for last night,” Ashley said softly. “I know I probably seemed strange. Confused and—”

Josh raised a hand quickly, cutting her off.

“Hey. You don’t need to apologize,” he said gently. “I’m the one who should say sorry. I was too rushed.”

Ashley looked at him, wanting to say more, but Josh continued.

“I know you’re not ready yet. And that’s okay. Not everything has to click all at once, right?”

He gave a small, understanding smile. “I might’ve gotten ahead of myself. Thought we were moving into a closer phase. Turns out, I wasn’t as perceptive as I thought.”

Ashley bit her lower lip, feeling a mixture of relief and sadness swirl inside her.

“It’s not you, Josh,” she said quietly. “It’s me who’s... scared.”

“Scared?” he echoed softly.

She nodded.

“I’m scared that I’m just a substitute. Or a distraction. That you haven’t really moved on from her.”

Josh fell silent.

The words lingered between them like a thick fog refusing to lift. Ashley sipped her juice slowly, avoiding his gaze.

After a long pause, Josh’s voice came calmer, more measured.

“She’s part of my past, Ash.”

“But she’s not really gone yet, is she?” Ashley whispered.

Josh lowered his eyes, tracing circles on the bottom of his glass with his thumb.

“I’m human too. I have memories, wounds, regrets. But right now... the person in front of me, the one living under this roof, eating scrambled eggs with me for breakfast... that’s you.”

Ashley turned toward him.

Josh met her gaze steadily. “If you need time, I can wait. But don’t ever think you’re just a replacement. You’re real. So real that sometimes I don’t even know how to handle it.”

Ashley’s cheeks flushed softly. She wasn’t sure if it was the weight of his words or the intensity of his unblinking stare.

They didn’t speak again for several minutes. But this silence felt different—lighter than the heavy tension from last night. More like a pause in the music that made the next note sweeter.

When they finished eating, Josh stood and carried the two empty plates to the sink.

“I’ll wash these. You just sit,” he said, turning on the hot water.

Ashley stayed seated, watching his back.

Her heart wasn’t completely at ease yet. But that morning felt somehow lighter than the night before. Maybe because Josh acted as if nothing had happened. Or maybe because they both knew their conversation wasn’t over, but they were willing to let it wait, letting the moment breathe.

Because love—if this was love—wasn’t built on one grand moment.

It was made of many mornings like this.

With scrambled eggs, ramen jokes, and smiles that tried to calm the small storms inside their chests.