Nevara
For a while, there was nothing but the sound of water.
It poured over us in a steady stream, warm against skin that had gone cold somewhere along the way, washing over grief that didn’t lessen so much as shift—moving from sharp, suffocating edges into something heavier, something that settled deeper instead of breaking apart.
I didn’t know how long we stood there like that.
Pressed together.
Holding on.
Breathing through something neither of us could fix.
At some point, the sobbing quieted. Not because it was over, but because there was only so much of it a body could sustain before it burned itself down into silence. My face stayed buried against his chest, his arms still wrapped around me, his hold firm in a way that felt less like restraint and more like reassurance.
He w
