Seraphim's POV
I had survived another week… barely. It was strange how silence could feel so loud, how a person's absence could take up more space than their presence ever did. Natasha hadn't called, hadn't texted, hadn't even sent me a tiny emoji. Grey hadn't spoken to me either; he moved around the house like a ghost with sharp eyes, saying nothing, offering nothing, acknowledging nothing.
I knew I should've been relieved. Peaceful silence was supposed to feel like freedom, but this silence strangled me. Every night I stared at my phone until my eyes stung, typing messages to Natasha and deleting them before I could even breathe on the send button. I'm sorry, please hear me out, Nat… I need you, delete, delete, delete.
Why was it so easy for people to leave? Why was I always the one staying, even when it hurt?
