We were standing in the kitchen of a rental cabin that smelled like pine and old dust. The snow outside had turned the world into a silent, white envelope. This was the part of the romantic storyline where the music usually swells.
That was the moment. Not the kiss. Not the confession. Just the seeing . We were standing in the kitchen of a
We stayed in that kitchen until the coffee went cold. Outside, the snow kept falling. And for the first time, the silence didn't feel like an ending. We were standing in the kitchen of a