The air in the room thickened as Miles's absence settled in. My mother's voice droned on in the background, her cheerful commentary on wedding leftovers and weekend plans filling the silence. I nodded absently, offering monosyllabic responses while my thoughts spun in every direction but here.
The coffee in my hands had gone cold, yet I gripped the mug like it was the only thing tethering me to reality.
My mother's voice broke through. "You've been quiet all morning. Something on your mind?"
"No," I lied, setting the mug down and standing. "Just tired."
She didn't push. Her smile faltered briefly before she turned back to her task. Guilt flickered in my chest, but I pushed it down. I couldn't talk about this—not to her, not to anyone.
I stepped into the hallway, the soft hum of voices from the dining room drawing me like a magnet. Miles's earlier words replayed in my mind, sharp and intimate: "I'll see you around."
Why couldn't I let it go?
I crept closer, the hardwood floor cool beneath my bare feet. The dining room door was ajar, the sound of Richard's hearty laugh mingling with the clinking of cutlery. The sight of him—a man who seemed to embody stability—should've comforted me. Instead, it reminded me of everything that felt out of reach.
I was halfway to the stairs when I heard her voice—soft, playful, intimate.
"I didn't expect you to leave so soon."
My heart stopped.
The voice wasn't my mother's.
I inched closer, peering through the crack in the door. A woman stood by the table, her auburn hair falling in soft waves over her shoulders. She leaned slightly toward Richard, her fingers brushing against his arm as she spoke.
Richard smiled, his gaze lingering on her in a way that made my stomach churn.
"Work's been relentless," he said, his tone light but tinged with something darker. "I'm lucky I made it back in time for the wedding."
The woman laughed softly, her lips curling into a knowing smile. "I'm sure you'll find a way to balance everything. You always do."
The words were innocent enough, but the intimacy in her tone wasn't. My fingers curled into fists at my sides as a wave of unease swept over me. This wasn't my business. But I couldn't tear my eyes away.
"Are you staying for lunch?" she asked, her voice lilting.
Richard shook his head, glancing toward the doorway. "I should head back. I don't want to keep her waiting."
Her. My mother.
The woman's smile faltered for a fraction of a second before she recovered, nodding gracefully. "Of course. You're a lucky man."
The words hung in the air like a challenge, and for a moment, Richard didn't reply. Then, he straightened, his posture shifting into something more guarded. "I'll see you at the office, Elaine."
Elaine. The name seared itself into my memory.
Richard brushed past her, his steps firm and deliberate as he walked toward the hallway. I darted back, pressing myself against the wall as his footsteps approached. My pulse thundered in my ears, and I held my breath, willing myself invisible.
The footsteps paused, then continued up the stairs. I exhaled shakily, my chest heaving as I tried to process what I'd just seen.
A new, gnawing dread settled in my stomach. This wasn't just about Miles anymore. Something deeper was unraveling beneath the surface, threatening to pull me under.
I barely made it back to my room before my emotions spilled over. My mind raced with questions, doubts, accusations. Was I imagining things? Was there more to Richard and Elaine than what I'd seen?
The sound of laughter downstairs felt like nails on a chalkboard. How could everyone else be so oblivious while my world tilted on its axis?
A knock at the door startled me, and I wiped at my face hastily. "Come in."
The door creaked open, and Miles stepped inside, his presence filling the room like a storm cloud. His eyes scanned my face, his brow furrowing as he closed the door behind him.
"You look like you've seen a ghost," he said, his voice low.
I stared at him, words caught in my throat. His gaze didn't waver, sharp and unyielding as if he could see straight through me.
"What do you want, Miles?" My voice came out harsher than I intended.
"I couldn't leave." He took a step closer, his movements deliberate. "Not after last night."
His words sent a jolt through me, equal parts anger and longing. I folded my arms over my chest, a flimsy barrier against the emotions threatening to spill over.
"Don't do this," I said, my voice trembling. "Don't pretend this means anything."
"It doesn't?" His eyes burned into mine, challenging, daring me to deny what we both knew. "Then why can't you even look at me?"
I turned away, my chest tightening. "You're leaving. That's all there is to it."
"Maybe," he said, his voice softening. "But that doesn't change what happened. Or what's happening now."
His hand brushed my arm, and I froze, the warmth of his touch sending a shiver down my spine. For a moment, the world narrowed to just the two of us, the air between us charged with unspoken words.
Then he stepped back, his expression hardening. "You're not the only one running from something, you know."
Before I could respond, he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him. I stared at the empty space where he'd stood, my heart pounding as his words echoed in my mind.
You're not the only one running.
The weight of his statement settled heavily on my chest. Whatever storm I was caught in, Miles was part of it. And neither of us was getting out unscathed.
The door to my fragile world had been cracked open, and I wasn't sure it could ever be closed again.