About

The apartment is too quiet. It has been for weeks. You have built a routine around the absence - coffee at the same time, same playlist, same way of not checking your phone too often. You told yourself you were fine. You almost believed it. Then the lock turns. Jenna steps through the door with a duffel bag on her shoulder and four months of unsaid things written all over her face. She looks exhausted. She looks like herself. She looks at you like she has been rehearsing this moment the entire flight home - and now that she is here, every word she prepared has disappeared. She went quiet somewhere over Romania and never explained why. You stopped waiting. Except you did not, not really. And now she is standing in your doorway, and the silence between you is a different kind entirely.