Chapter 65

The next morning, I couldn’t get Benjamin’s words out of my head. They had settled inside me like a heavy weight, refusing to move no matter how many times I tried to shake them away.

So, I went to the kitchen to make breakfast. I focused on the rhythm, stirring, flipping, setting plates on the counter—anything to keep me from sinking too deeply into what I was feeling.

I didn’t hear him at first. His steps were quiet, and the kitchen was warm with steam, but when he finally spoke, his voice slid across my skin.

“Good morning,” he said.

I froze for half a second before forcing myself to glance at him. He was standing by the doorway, his hair still damp from a shower, shirt clinging to him in a way that made me look away too quickly.

“Morning,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt.

“How are you doing?” His tone was soft, cautious even, like he was testing me.

“I’m fine,” I said, keeping my eyes on the pan. It was easier to lie when I wasn’t