For the next week, Eloise vanished into her room like a ghost haunting her own life. She barely slept. Days and nights bled together as she drowned herself in the project, using it like armor to keep the world out. Papers scattered across every surface, coffee cups piled beside untouched meals, and the blue glow of her laptop lit the shadows under her eyes. She didn’t want rest—she wanted escape. Escape from the memories, from the quiet pain that crawled through her chest, and most of all, from him.
Jack, however, became a constant in her silence. Sometimes, he knocked with lunch in hand, offering it with a casual, "Thought you might be starving in there." Other times, he sprawled on her couch, his phone in hand, whistling a tune, saying nothing but being present.
Eloise grew used to him
