The room was dark when I walked in, the kind of quiet that pressed against your ears. Her side of the bed was already occupied. Val was lying perfectly still, her back turned toward me, the soft glow of the nightlight tracing the outline of her shoulder.
I knew she wasn't asleep.
Her breathing wasn't slow enough.
But I didn't say anything.
I just stood there for a moment, watching the rise and fall of her back before turning away.
The shower was quick — hot water, steam, the faint scent of her shampoo still clinging to the air. I stayed under it longer than I needed to, hoping the warmth might wash off the heaviness I couldn't quite name.
When I slipped into bed, the sheets were cold on my side. She didn't move, didn't make a sound. I lay there staring at the ceiling, listening to the hum of the city outside.
For a while, I just… looked at her.
