Alan
I sat there for a while, the quiet weight of Cyril’s presence beside me a small but meaningful comfort. She hadn’t said much after that, and neither had I. What else was there to say? Words had been thrown around for weeks, and now, for the first time, we were both standing in the silence that followed, where the truth had settled in and we didn’t need to hide from it.
Cyril’s presence beside me wasn’t just a physical one—it was emotional, too. She was still here, despite everything. Her face, usually so expressive, was quieter now. But that quietness wasn’t as much an absence as it was a space to breathe.
I glanced over at her, watching as she absentmindedly traced the rim of the cup in her hands, her fingers slow and careful, almost as though she was trying to find something to s
