I didn't know how many days had passed since the funeral.
Morning, noon, night, they all blended into one dull stretch of silence.
And the mansion was very quiet because nobody spoke loudly or even knocked at my door except my husband who came in to make sure I at least drank water daily.
Which was perfect.
At some point during those days, I must have finally fallen asleep, because when I opened my eyes, I was on my bed, wrapped in a blanket.
I couldn't, for the life of me, remember how or what I was doing before I slept off, but I knew I had been on the floor.
I slowly stood up and tried to walk but sat down back because I was feeling dizzy.
Damian must have carried me to the bed and covered me up when I fell asleep.
A strange heaviness settled in my heart. He and I were not even friends, and our marriage wasn't out of love, but he had been very supportive since Luke died.
Not talking to me, but solidly behind me.
That was nice of him, and it made me feel less alone.
