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The living room seemed even smaller in the dark, lit only by a single lamp on the side table that cast long, weary shadows on the worn hardwood floor. Snow still clung to the window edges from the last storm, glowing a faint blue under the streetlight outside, while inside, everything felt heavy and still.
I perched on the edge of the couch, elbows resting on my knees, my hands clasped so tightly that my knuckles were starting to ache. Ethan stood by the window, facing away from me, arms crossed over his chest as if he was trying to hold himself together.
The silence between us wasn't empty; it was thick and oppressive, echoing with every word I had just forced out of my mouth.
