The next few days settle into something that feels almost normal.
Almost.
Normal would mean I don't notice every time Devan walks into a room. Normal would mean I can breathe without remembering the way his hands held me or the way his voice sounds in the dark.
Normal would mean I am not hyper aware of him constantly.
But the house has changed.
Or maybe I have.
We move around each other carefully, like two people who stepped over a line and aren't quite sure how to redraw it.
Sometimes our eyes meet across the kitchen.
Sometimes his hand brushes mine when we both reach for the coffee pot.
Sometimes we say nothing at all.
And somehow, that silence says everything.
Friday arrives faster than I expect.
Work is a blur of code reviews, meetings and Carla making entirely too many comments about my suspiciously distracted mood.
Anushka had joined her now mentioning something about me being distracted lately. I dismiss all their comments saying they are just making things up.
