Ethan had gone inside to shower.

Kim stayed behind in the yard, picking up the last few things scattered across the grass. Not because he needed to — the yard was already clean — but because he seemed like he needed something to do with his hands.

He wasn’t talking.

Not humming.

Not teasing Ethan.

Not even glancing in my direction.

Just… quiet.

I sat on one of the steps, pulling my knees up. The air felt still, almost heavy, like it was waiting for something I couldn’t name.

Kim walked past me once, I looked up. He didn’t look back.

Something in my chest tugged at that.

I told myself not to overthink it. People got tired. People got distant sometimes. It didn’t have to mean anything.

Except… it felt like it did.

After a while, I heard the sliding door open and close from behind the house. Kim had stepped inside.

I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

Maybe going inside would be better. Maybe if we weren’t in the same space, I’d stop noticing his silence like it was something personal.

I stood, brushing dirt off my palms, when the faint sound of a voice drifted out from the kitchen window.

Kim’s voice.

I froze.

I didn’t mean to eavesdrop — I really didn’t — but his tone wasn’t normal. Not his calm one. Not the slightly annoyed one. This one was… something else.

Like he was holding something back.

“Yeah,” he said quietly, though the words were muffled. “I know. I’m coming back soon.”

Coming back…?

My heartbeat stumbled.

He paused, listening to whoever was on the other side of the call.

“No, it’s just…”

A small sigh.

“I needed time to think.”

Time to think.

About what? About who?

My fingers curled unconsciously at my sides.

I stepped closer, not enough to be seen, just enough for the wind to carry the rest of the conversation.

“No, I haven’t talked to her yet.”

Her.

The word hit deeper than it should have.

Another pause.

More quiet listening.

“I know,” he finally said, softer now. “I’ll figure it out.”

Figure what out?

The question twisted into something sharp.

I stepped back from the window before I heard anything else. Before I convinced myself to keep listening.

 Before the ache in my chest grew any heavier.

A moment later, the sliding door opened.

Kim stepped outside again, phone tucked into his pocket, expression calm and unreadable — the same mask he’d worn all morning.

He looked at me then.

Just one second.

Just one glance.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

The simple question felt complicated.

And I didn’t trust my voice enough to answer.

So I only nodded.

Kim nodded back, as if nothing was wrong.

But something had already changed.

Something neither of us had the courage to say out loud yet.