Chapter 1
Denis POV
I wake to the kind of quiet that feels intentional — like the morning is trying to keep a secret from me.
For a moment I lie there, staring at the faint stripe of light slipping under my door. It’s early, too early, the hour when the world is soft and half-formed. I should hate it. I usually do.
But today the quiet isn’t empty.
It has… her in it.
I can hear the faintest sound from the next room — the shuffle of blankets, the creak of the floorboard she always steps on when she first gets up. Anyone else would miss it. I never do.
My body reacts before my mind does: my chest lifts a little; my breath stalls.
She’s awake.
It’s ridiculous how that tiny sound can pull me fully into the world.
I roll onto my side, facing the wall that separates us. Just a few inches of wood. That’s it. That’s all that stands between me and the warmth of her skin, the scent of her hair, the tiny morning sounds she makes when she’s stretching her arms over her head.
I close my eyes and imagine it — her sitting on the edge of her bed, rubbing the sleep from her face, humming under her breath without realizing it. She always hums in the morning. Soft, like she’s afraid to disturb anyone.
She has no idea she already disturbs me.
Every day.
Every morning.
Quiet or not.
My hand slides across my pillow, stopping where hers would rest if she were beside me instead of behind that wall. I don’t touch the wood — that feels too desperate — but I let my palm hover, just close enough to feel the idea of her.
I shouldn’t want this as badly as I do.
I hear her footsteps, slow, unhurried. Bare feet on cool tiles. My heart actually stutters. It’s pathetic. It’s real.
She pauses. Right on the other side of my door. I swear the air changes. I can almost—almost—feel her presence pressing through.
If I opened my mouth, I think her name might fall out on its own.
But I stay still, breathing quietly, letting the moment stretch.
She doesn’t knock.
I don’t call out.
Instead, she moves on, her soft steps drifting away, leaving me with a smile I can’t fight and a morning I suddenly don’t hate.
She’s close.
And somehow that’s enough to pull me out of bed.
For now.
I hurried to take a shower clean up, look presentable, maybe I can catch her before she goes back to her room may be I can see her.
See my own wife.
It's been a month, I miss her, I miss us.
As I open my door rushing to the kitchen hers close. I just missed her . Defeated I went back in my room.
The kitchen was knit and clean as always, she was a clean lady. Admiring my wifes work with a warm cup of coffee in my hands ,my phone ring pulled me back to reality.
" Daniel?" I spoke" what time" I looked back to the direction of her door, I knew she could hear me. " Well be there" I hang up the phone just to turn and see a note on the fridge, it has being our way of communicating for months now,
NEED MONEY FOR GROCERY
I hate this I wish we could go back to the way we used to talk meeting in the balcony at night before bed.
I pulled out my card, and left a note of my own
DINNER AT DANIELS 7:00
At list I have an excuse to see her, hold her and hear her laught.
