The silence in the house is unsettling. Before, there were always conversations floating in the air, scattered laughter, the echo of hurried footsteps in the hallways. Now, only the distant sounds of the city filter through the window and the faint buzz of the phone in my hand, still waiting for a message that might never come.
I lie down on the bed, feeling the weight of fatigue in my body, but unable to get to sleep. I wonder if Michelle felt this many times, if the habit of being alone made her immune to sadness or if she simply learned to live with it.
I take a deep breath. Loneliness has a cruel way of sticking to you, reminding you of the decisions you've made and their consequences. Now there is a new reality in front of me, and its presence is as relentless as the void it has lef
