Between Us 

                                                                                               Chapter 7

For these two days, the house felt different.

Not louder or quieter — just… off.

Kim still made his coffee in the morning, still teased Ethan on calls, still left his sneakers by the door.

But whenever I entered the room, he’d find a reason to check his phone or look the other way.

It shouldn’t have bothered me this much.

But it did.

On the third morning, I found him fixing the garden light that had been broken since forever.“

Didn’t know you suddenly cared about home improvement,” I said.

He didn’t look up. “Gotta keep busy somehow.”

“You could talk to me instead,” I muttered.

He paused for half a second, the wrench in his hand tightening.

Then he smiled — small, polite, not the usual one.

“I am talking to you, aren’t I?”

It was the kind of answer that ends conversations, not starts them.

So I walked away before he could see my face.

That night, I sat on the porch with my sketchbook, pretending to draw.

I could hear his footsteps behind me before he even said anything.

“You’re still awake,” he said softly.

"So are you.”

He hesitated, then sat a few steps away, not to far but.

The air between us was cool, filled with the hum of crickets and the soft rustle of trees.

For a long time, neither of us spoke.

We didn’t need to.

The quiet was loud enough.

Finally, Kim said, “About the other day — whatever that was — it doesn’t have to be weird.”

“It’s already weird,” I said honestly.

He looked down, a tiny smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Yeah. Guess it is.”

But then he looked at me — really looked — and the world felt smaller again.

Like maybe everything we were avoiding was still right here, sitting between us on that porch.

When Ethan called later that week to say he’d be back tomorrow, my stomach did a strange flip.

Kim just nodded when I told him, like it was no big deal.

But that night, when I went to my room, I caught him outside again — leaning against the fence, staring up at the sky like he was searching for an answer.

I almost called his name.

Almost.

Instead, I closed the curtain and told myself that the distance between us was safer this way.

But sleep didn’t come easy.