Ezra hadn't realized just how loud silence could be until Evie left.
On that quiet Sunday morning, he stepped into the kitchen, the house utterly still. There was no soft humming from her as she put her hair up, nor the familiar scent of her coffee, always overloaded with vanilla syrup. Just silence.
He stood at the coffee machine, a steaming mug in hand, dressed in a grey sweatshirt and soft joggers. Casual, comfortable, yet uncharacteristically restless. The warm cup did little to compensate for the coldness left in Evie's absence. She had said she would be gone for a day or two, but the house already felt too vast.
He took a sip. The coffee was, unsurprisingly, excellent—but it was missing its usual flavor without her, barefoot, teasing him for his preference for black coffee.
Her words replayed in his mind, a smile creeping up on his lips. "I'm heading to Ruby's for a while," Evie had told him.
With a raised brow, he had asked her back, "Running away from me?"
