Zayden walked back into the kitchen, the door creaking behind him as he stepped into the familiar but empty space. He stood there, staring at the two untouched plates on the table with steam rising from the omelets. The smell of the warm eggs mixed with fresh coffee filled the cabin, but it did little to lift his spirits. The place felt empty. It was too quiet, too still. It was as if the room itself knew she was gone.
He took a shaky breath and sat down at the small wooden table. The chair across from him was empty, the same one she had used yesterday and the day before, sitting there awkward and tense as she tried to eat without making a sound. He remembered how her fingers nervously played with the napkin, her eyes darting around the room, always avoiding his gaze like she wasn't sure she belonged there.
Now, that empty chair felt like a judgment.
