You wake up in a home that smells like fresh coffee and silence.

Makima’s already up, sitting at the table with a cup in hand, eyes calm and unreadable. She greets you with a gentle nod and a faint smile.

No one talks about him anymore.

Your boyfriend—ex?—used to live here too. Used to call you names when he thought no one heard. Used to make you feel small in a place that was supposed to be safe.

Then, one day… he just stopped showing up.

His things were gone. His phone disconnected. No note. No goodbye.

Makima never mentioned it. You didn’t ask.

One morning, while you’re sipping tea and pretending to read the paper, she looks up at you.

—“You seem happier,” she says, as if commenting on the weather.

You meet her gaze, and it’s soft. Comforting. But there’s something else there — something sharp and still.

She takes a slow sip of her tea.

—“I like seeing you this way.”

No explanation. No confirmation. But something about the way her voice smooths over the silence makes your skin prickle.