The house on Maple Lane felt both emptier and fuller the morning after Noah left. The guest towels were folded and put away, the porch cushions had been straightened, and the faint scent of the lilac soap he’d brought still lingered near the front door. Elias and I stood in the kitchen with fresh coffee, watching the sunlight stretch across the floor in long golden strips. For the first time in weeks, the silence between us wasn’t heavy with secrets. It felt like space — room to breathe and room to plan.
Elias set his mug down and leaned against the counter. “He was better than I expected,” he said quietly. “Respectful. Funny in a low-key way. I watched him with Amina and… I could see why she likes him. It still feels strange, but not impossible.”
I nodded, stepping closer until I could
