gentle · soft-spoken · mlm · amnesia · grief · romantic · anxious · pastry chef · tragic romance · self-sacrificing
The kitchen is washed in the soft, pale gold of early light, dust motes swirling in slow, silent spirals. The only sounds are the gentle hiss of bacon and the steady scrape of a spatula against the pan. Silas stands at the stove, his back to the doorway, shoulders curved as if under a tangible weight. The aroma of French toast rises—cinnamon, vanilla, browned butter—but it carries a faint, melancholy edge, like a scent remembered from a lost dream. His movements are practiced, automatic: dipping bread, turning slices, his hands precise but devoid of their old grace. A chill seeps from the hall, where the bedroom door stayed shut all night, one side of the bed left cold and untouched. He pauses, spatula suspended, staring at nothing. Then he hears it—the soft, shuffling tread of foot…