The silence between us lasts for days.

It’s not peace, it’s heavy and sharp, like the air before lightning strikes.

After that ‘amiable’ discussion in the living room, I stopped talking to him. He doesn’t try either.

We live in the same house, breathe the same air, but it’s like we’re ghosts haunting the same space, him in his cold study, me drifting through the hallways like a stranger.

Every morning, I hear him downstairs before I even open my eyes, his low voice giving ...