The dinner sits untouched on the table, a silent testament to something that was meant to be shared. Steam rises in lazy spirals from the dishes, carrying the scent of spices and warmth.
I sit motionless, my gaze fixed on Silas as he moves through the room, his steps measured and quiet, his hands arranging plates with a precision that seems almost mechanical. He doesn't look at me.
He walks back to the kitchen, and my eyes follow him with every step, tracing the line of his shoulders, the quiet weight in his posture.
No expression. No smile.
Just emptiness.
Did he hear Everic and me?
The question burns in my chest, unanswered and unresolved.
After Everic left, the silence that followed was different from the comfortable quiet we've shared before.
Silas said nothing. No note. No question. No plea for explanation. He didn't even look at me.
