I’m wiping down the counters in the kitchen when I hear movement upstairs. He’s awake—reading my letter at this moment. I freeze, waiting in anticipation. I can practically hear my heart thumping in my chest. With a humiliated squeak, I cover my face with my hands and wait for his response. A long time goes by in silence. I continue to clean the kitchen, then prep for dinner. My eyes flash to the stairwell again and again. I’m leaning against the counter when I hear his steps coming down. That invisible string between us pulls him nearer and nearer. The house is so quiet that I can barely
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